


O for Outstanding

by KoraKwidditch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Hermione Granger, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Professors, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom, High Heels, Hogwarts, It's gonna get good, Lingerie, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Draco Malfoy, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Hermione Granger, Professor Neville Longbottom, Professors, Romance, Shoe Kink, Smut, Wet Dream, just a little, look im just saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch
Summary: Draco Malfoy could finally classify his life as content. He was the Potions Master at Hogwarts, he had decent friends, and he loved his job.That all went to shit when Hermione Fucking Granger became the new Transfiguration Professor.Now his life was a mess. He was constantly having to deal with her attitude, and squash down the odd attraction he was feeling for her. Not to mention, she liked to wear the most insanely heeled shoes he had ever seen, which drove him absolutely mental.If only she knew that Draco Malfoy had a shoe kink.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Susan Bones/Neville Longbottom
Comments: 524
Kudos: 909





	1. The New Transfiguration Professor

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, SraStrr and to my alpha's StoriesbyNessie and Sonnenflower! 
> 
> A little note, I tried my absolute best to keep any areas of Hogwarts true to canon locations, however, every map I looked at had things in different places, so I apologize in advance if there's anything messed up. (Seriously, I spent hours researching so please be nice if I did)
> 
> Anyways, without further ado, I give you chapter one of O for Outstanding! Enjoy!
> 
> Manip created by Klawdee!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49691407808/in/dateposted-public/)

**Chapter One: The New Transfiguration Professor**

Draco flicked his wand, levitating cauldrons to the desks throughout the rooms. He had been preparing his classroom for the better part of an hour, making sure everything was in its proper place. The new school year started tomorrow and while he normally didn't care for others opinions, he demanded respect from his students. To him, respect started with an organized and well-prepared classroom, something his apprenticing under Slughorn had taught him.

His personal cauldron bubbled on his desk at the front of the room and he made his way over to it, expertly stirring the concoction. He had first-years as his very first class of the year, and he wanted to impress them. Not that Pompion potion was hard to brew but turning one's head into a pumpkin was a sure-fire way to get eleven-year-olds to like you. Draco had done this for every first-year class, giving 50 house points to the student brave enough to drink it.

When liquid turned red, he stirred counter-clockwise, then quickly sliced the foxglove and dropped it in. He switched his stirring to the opposite direction until it took on a shade of bright pumpkin orange and removed it from the heat. He was able to bottle three vials worth but only needed two since his classes were shared between Houses. Grinning to himself he thought of a devious idea of what to do with the extra bottle. He'd leave the potion un-labelled and offer it to his Advanced Potion's class, as a test of trust. Whoever dared to drink it wouldn't have to do the first assignment of the year.

Draco set the filled bottles on his desk and cast a cleaning charm on the dirty cauldron.

"What's got you so happy?"

The grin instantly dropped from his face as he turned to Neville Longbottom, Herbology Professor and Head of Gryffindor house, who was sauntering through his classroom. He held a large basket in his arms, full of various herbs and potion ingredients.

Draco scowled as Neville deposited the basket onto his desk, nearly knocking over his newly bottled potion. "Be careful, will you? I need those for tomorrow."

"Is that the pumpkin head potion you always make?" Neville eyed the orange liquid as he brushed the dirt off his robes. He always seemed to have soil clinging to him and Draco's scowl deepened as he watched the dirt fall onto his pristine floor.

"Pompion Potion, Longbottom." Draco rolled his eyes, he was used to the Gryffindor's cluelessness when it came to the art of potion-making. He flicked his wand at the basket, sending the plants to their rightful places in his cupboards. He then made it a point to flourish his wand as dramatically as possible when sending a broom and dust pail to get the soil from where Neville stood. He smirked in satisfaction as he watched the man's cheeks turn pink.

"Sorry, Draco."

Draco waved his hand dismissively. He'd never admit it to anyone but he had grown a soft spot for the snake-slayer. They had both been hired at the same time, he apprenticed under Sprout and Draco under Slughorn. Herbology and Potions required a mutual relationship, so they worked together constantly. Both mentors retired at the end of the '00 school year, just two years after the war, and left the two of them to their own devices. He'd deny it to anyone that asked but Neville had become a close friend.

"Thanks for bringing the plants. Are you heading to dinner?"

Neville's eyes instantly brightened, "Yes! Did you hear the new Transfiguration professor arrived today? McGonagall sure has been mysterious about who it is all summer but today we'll finally get to find out!"

Draco grimaced, he didn't much care for who it was, he only hoped it was someone he didn't know or, at least, could tolerate. "No, I didn't. I've been down here all day getting the classroom ready and finalizing my syllabus. You know very well that you and Bones are the only ones that come down here."

She was another person who had accepted him. Draco had only been teaching for a year when Susan Bones joined them as the new Muggle Studies professor and Head of Hufflepuff. When she first arrived she regarded him with indifference but, noticing how he and Neville were friends, she eventually came around. Three years later and he supposed he was stuck with a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff for best friends - if only his school-boy self could see him now.

Draco and Neville made their way out of the chilly dungeons and towards the Great Hall, curiosity for the new professor quickening their pace. Flitwick and Hagrid, as well as many other professors, were already seated while Trelawney and Lupin stood at the table speaking animatedly.

That was another surprise.

Like many others, Remus Lupin had not come out of the War unscathed; but he did come out alive and decided to retake his post as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He had been offered the position of Head of Gryffindor as well, but it was hard enough to convince the parents of the students to accept a werewolf as a professor. So, Lupin declined and left Neville to become the Head when he started, allowing McGonagall to finally step down.

The man had already been a teacher for a year before Draco started his apprenticeship, the curse on the position having been broken with Voldemort's defeat. The pair regarded each other with respect but were not overly friendly. Draco supposed old grudges were hard to break, especially when coupled with the fact he had lost his wife and Draco's cousin, Nymphadora, in the final battle.

Draco's role in the War caused a permanent rift between him and many people but he was making an effort to change that. One of the ways he did this was by ensuring Lupin always had plenty of Wolfsbane available come every full moon. It was the least he could do, really.

"Sybill, I appreciate you looking out for me but I can assure you, I won't be taking a swim in the Lake anytime soon." Lupin looked like he just wanted to sit down, his clothes and demeanour always somewhere between unkempt and pure exhaustion.

"But Remus!" cried Trelawney in her overly ominous voice, "I have seen it! You will swim in the Lake and lose something precious to you. You must take the signs seriously!"

Draco rolled his eyes but nodded in greeting to the Professors as he passed. Lupin nodded back but Trelawney regarded him with her large spectacled eyes.

"Oh, Draco, dear!" she reached out and grabbed Draco's wrist, yanking him to her side. "My poor dear. Oh Draco, Draco, Draco."

Draco looked to Professor Lupin pleadingly but the werewolf had taken the opportunity to slip away and sit, leaving Draco to deal with the eccentric Seer alone. He darted his eyes over to Neville, who was snickering behind his hand.

"I have seen something of you this year, Draco. You know every year I look to the future for each of the professors?" Her hand held his wrist in a strong vice-grip that he would never have suspected someone as small and frail as she could possess.

Draco internally sighed. With no way out of the conversation, he supposed he'd have to actually speak to her. "Yes, Trelawney, I do."

"Well, after four long years, I have finally seen something for you!" She looked at him imploringly, waiting for him to ask her what it was.

Draco could honestly not give a rat's arse. He never regarded Divination as anything other than an easy elective to take - he had bullshitted his way through most of the course when he was in school.

"Erm... Okay?"

Trelawney narrowed her eyes at his reply but continued on, "You will suffer a good deal this year, my boy. Oh yes, I have seen it." She patted his arm as if to reassure him, "Thrice you will suffer but it won't be for nought! Yes my dear, in the end, I believe you will be happy."

Draco scrunched his nose and looked down at the Divination professor. At six-foot-three inches he towered over many people, but with Trelawney only being a mere five feet tall, he dwarfed her. "So... I'm going to suffer, but I'm going to be happy about it?"

Trelawney waved her hands wildly in front of her, "Do not ask me anything more!" she shrilly yelled, "For the fates have shown me that I cannot tell you how you will suffer, only that you will."

Draco huffed impatiently, he just wanted to take his seat next to Neville, eat and go back to his classroom. "Ah. Thank you, Trelawney."

Her grey frizzy hair bounced while she nodded her head as if she had just done him the biggest favour in the world, "Of course, of course. It is my duty to the faculty to ensure you all a safe year! Why, just earlier I was telling dear Hagrid his omens! It was quite interesting, you know. He-"

Hagrid cleared his throat noisily from the end of the table, his cheeks and nose reddening beneath his large bushy beard as all eyes turned to him. "What was it you were sayin' about te readin' Sybill gave you, Filius?"

The half-goblin turned to Hagrid with a confused face, "What? We weren't even speak-"

Hagrid cleared his throat loudly again and after a moment, a look of understanding passed over Flitwicks face. "Ah, yes. Right. Sybill, would you please explain what you told me earlier?"

With someone actually wanting to hear her prophecies, Trelawney forgot all about Draco and glided towards the end of the table. Dramatically, she began a long flourished speech on the Fates having seen something 'quite special' for Flitwick this year. Draco nodded to the half-giant in thanks and Hagrid waved his hand, shooing him to sit down quickly.

Draco didn't need any further encouragement. He all but ran to the other end of the table, taking his seat next to Neville, who was still laughing behind his hand, and Professor Vector. He was about to tell his friend off when Susan rushed into the hall, followed by Madame Hooch and Madame Pince.

Susan quickly took her seat on the opposite side of Neville, gulping for air, "You'll... never... guess... who-" The familiar sound of McGonagall's heeled boots clicking on the cobblestones instantly quieted the room - even Trelawney silenced her ramblings

The black pointed hat the Headmistress always wore came into view at the entrance of the Great Hall, her emerald green robes billowed behind her elegantly. Draco always noted how different she was to Dumbledore. Where he had received respect based on rumours of his immense power, McGonagall demanded it with her lionhearted demeanour.

A figure followed closely behind her and Draco's heart plummeted into his stomach when he realized who it was. He'd know that bushy head anywhere.

Hermione. Fucking. Granger.

Draco's eyes felt like they were going to pop from their sockets as they widened, and he half-turned in his seat to Neville and Susan. Neville looked just as surprised as him, but Susan was grinning from ear to ear.

"It's Hermione," She whispered to them excitedly, "She's the new Transfiguration professor!"

He bit back a 'Thank you, Captain Obvious' retort and turned his eyes back to the pair as they reached the table. McGonagall stood proudly beside Hermione, who looked a bit timid under the gaze of all the faculty.

"Everyone, as I'm sure all of you know, this is Hermione Granger. She will be taking Transfiguration over for me. I expect you all to help her as she settles in." She eyed Draco as she said this last part, looking down at him from over her squared spectacles. He scowled back at her, understanding her insinuation. He was sure the entire rest of the faculty remembered how much of a prick he was to her in their school days.

When was the last time he had seen Granger? It had to have been two years ago, at Harry and Blaise's wedding.

The two wizards had gotten together shortly after the War ended, once Harry broke it off with Ginny upon the discovery that he preferred the company of other men. Ginny didn't seem to be too upset with it, as she began dating Oliver Wood only a month or so later.

Draco swallowed heavily as he took in the young witch standing on the opposite side of the table. She looked much like she had the night of the wedding, except now she was fresh-faced and her curls were certainly not nearly as tamed. She wore a dark blue sweater and muggle jeans that hugged her legs so tightly Draco wondered if her ballet-flat clad feet were losing circulation.

"'Ermione! Can't believe we'll get te be co-workers! Minerva, how could yer keep this from us all summer?" Hagrid bellowed from his seat.

He noticed Lupin, Vector and Flitwick had perked up as well, obviously excited to have probably their favourite pupil and fellow Order member teaching alongside them.

McGonagall smiled at the large man, "I'm very sorry to have had to, Hagrid, but it wasn't finalised until last week. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up." She placed a hand on Hermione's arm, "Now dear, there's an empty seat beside Septima." She gestured towards the seat close to where Draco sat. He felt the blood drain from his face as her dark eyes landed on him.

Her pinched expression spoke volumes as she walked towards them, but it instantly left her face as Neville and Susan stood to greet her.

Neville pulled her into a quick hug. "We were just together last week with the Potters. I can't believe you didn't say anything! I knew you were starting to hate the Ministry life but-"

She shrugged. "Yes well, I've always thought about teaching and Professor McGo—Minerva's been after me to take over for her for years. Figured it was time."

Susan pulled her in for a quick hug and waved a hand at Hermione's muck-up of McGonagall's name, "Oh don't worry about names. We all still call the older Professors by their surnames, even McGonagall. Seems too odd, after being their students for seven years, to suddenly start calling them Filius or Minerva. Hell, Neville and Draco have been here for four years and even they still call everyone by surnames."

At the mention of the Potions Master, Hermione's gaze flickered over to Draco. He narrowed his eyes at her cool regard for him before she continued around the table, passing behind him to take her place on the other side of Professor Vector.

McGonagall took her seat as well and swept her arm in the air, causing the table to quickly fill with platters of food. Draco immediately reached for the pitcher of wine that appeared in front of him and poured, filling his goblet to the brim. He normally didn't like to drink the night before term began, but he figured he'd need it.

He could feel Granger's presence radiating from the other side of Vector. She was one of the few people who he had yet to apologise to, for everything that happened in the war. He had tried, many _many_ times, but every time he worked up the resolve to seek her out, he'd chicken out, afraid that she would laugh in his face. So, it was no surprise to him that she still harboured ill feelings. Even still, it was grating on his nerves that he could feel her glaring at him.

Draco shifted his body to turn more towards Neville and began piling food onto his plate, taking a deep gulp of his wine.

Neville eyed him curiously, "You alright, Draco? You rarely drink."

Draco glared at him over the top of his goblet before setting it down. "I'm fine, Longbottom." He began eating his dinner, looking around at the empty hall from his place at the head of the room.

He couldn't wait for the school to be filled with students again. Not that he was soft, Malfoy's weren't _soft_. It was just that he much preferred the school full of life than empty, as it was now. An empty Hogwarts was haunted, with both literal forms and figurative spirits of those who suffered inside the ancient castle.

Vector had struck up a conversation with Granger, speaking about what to expect for tomorrow. Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her wild curls seemed to have a mind of their own, as they jostled about while she nodded enthusiastically at Vector's words. He tried to tune her out but at the sound of his name being spoken he perked up.

"-And Draco, always has a real treat for the first-years. They'll talk about it for _weeks_!" Vector turned to him with a genuine smile, "Tell her about your first lesson, Draco."

Draco swallowed the bit of chicken he had in his mouth, though it nearly got stuck on the way down. Granger's narrowed gaze caused any moisture in his mouth to disappear instantly. "I, um. I offer both first-year classes a Pompion Potion... Whoever drinks it gets 50 house points..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grabbed his wine, gulping down a hearty mouth full.

Vector grinned beside him and turned back to Hermione, seemingly unaware of any tension between them. "It's such a sweet idea. You can hear the laughter all the way from Hogsmead! I daresay Potions has become something of a favourite class around here. Not like how it was before."

Draco turned back to his plate, though his appetite had disappeared completely sometime between Granger's first and last harsh glare. She hadn't even bothered to comment on his potion idea - which was something he was quite proud of - not even with something snarky and it... and it bothered the hell out of him.

He ate a few more bites of mashed potatoes before grabbing his wine goblet and topping it. He leant back in his chair and sipped his drink, scowling into the empty room. He saw Susan nudge Neville and gesture towards him with a questioning look.

He turned in his seat towards his friends, his scowl deepening at Neville's concerned face. Before they could ask him any idiotic questions, he quickly knocked back the contents of his goblet and placed it on the table. He desperately wanted to be free from the tension Granger brought with her. So, he stood and nodded to the Headmistress, who regarded him with a quirked eyebrow before rounding the table and striding from the Great Hall. He could feel the eyes of every professor staring at him as he left, boring a hole into his back.

Though his mood could be considered sullen most times, he always spoke with the other teachers and stayed until the end of every meal. At the very least, he was sure Neville understood his... situation with Granger. He only hoped he explained it to Susan enough that she wouldn't ask him about it, though he was sure she'd have a million questions tomorrow anyway.

Retreating down the cold Dungeon steps, Draco took a deep breath to steady himself. He had rushed down here in haste and his heart thundered in his chest. He walked to the end of the corridor where the Potions Classroom was and slipped inside. Striding to his desk, he unclipped his long black robes and draped them over the back of the chair, leaving him in his dark suit.

He sank into the chair with an audible thud that echoed into the empty class. His head still buzzed from the wine and he leant forward to place it in his hands, running his fingers through, and messing up his normally impeccably styled hair. Only one thought kept circulating in his mind.

Trelawney was right. This year was going to be hell.


	2. What are you wearing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so much for all the support this has gotten! I'm so happy :) I decided to upload Chapter Two earlier than intended because of this, so I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for all the subscriptions/bookmarks, kudos and reviews, I really appreciate it! Have a good weekend!
> 
> This chapter has been amazingly beta'd by Srastrr. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Manip below was created by my lovely beta, Srastrr :)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49625465137/in/dateposted-public/)

**Chapter Two: What are you wearing?**

_A scream filled the Malfoy Manor foyer, making Draco's ears ring. Blood began to pool around his feet, staining the white marble floor red. He tried to move away from the stream of crimson but his feet were rooted to the spot. He grabbed his knee with both hands, and gripped it tightly, trying to yank it from the floor as the blood rose higher and higher. As it neared his calves, a sinister laugh echoed around him._

_Draco glanced around the room, trying to find where the laughter came from, to beg them to stop the rising blood. He saw a flash of faded black robes and pale skin but it darted away before he could get a good look at who it was._

_He opened his mouth to yell for help, but his tongue wouldn't move. In fact, it felt like he had no tongue at all. Heart rate quickening, he reached a shaking hand up to his mouth and discovered his tongue had been cut out, only a nub of the muscle was left in its place. Adrenaline now coursing through him, he reached back down with a newfound panic, yanking and tearing at his legs to get them to move. The blood was now at his thighs and it soaked through the fabric of his trousers._

_Another chilling laugh sounded directly behind him, making him freeze instantly. His whole body shook with a violent tremor as the sound of swishing robes came up to his back._

" _Hello, Draco." He recognized that inhuman voice anywhere._

_Voldemort._

_Draco swallowed thickly, without his tongue he was unable to respond. An icy hand gripped his forehead, another came to hold his chin and forced him to stare straight ahead. From the blackness in front of him, two figures emerged. One, his dead Aunt Bellatrix, the sickening grin he hadn't seen in five years spread on her face. The other, a young Hermione Granger, pale and shaking with fear. His Aunt began to carve deep cuts all over her skin with that dreaded cursed dagger. Hermione was screaming, the sound making his brain rattle._

_He tried to beg for it to stop but without his tongue, the words wouldn't form._

_Blood began to run from the wounds to join the red surrounding him. It was now at his chest and he tried to move but the grip on his head was too strong._

" _This is your fault, Draco," Voldemort whispered into his ear._

" _Your fault," His dead father's voice filled the room as he stepped into view._

" _Your fault," His mother, who he hadn't seen since the war, appeared next to Lucius._

" _Your fault," Bellatrix echoed from in front of him, her mouth still twisted in a sinister grin._

_The blood was now at his lips, and the metallic scent filled his nostrils. His heart hammered in his chest as his eyes landed on Hermione. Tears flowed down her thin face, and the crimson liquid now came to just below his eyes._

" _Your fault." She whispered._

_His vision went red as the blood swallowed him whole._

Draco woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest and his breath came out ragged as he sat up. His eyes darted around the room and swept over his body. Finding no traces of blood on his person, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings. He was in Hogwarts, it was the first of September 2003, the war ended over five years ago. Narcissa was in France, banned from ever returning to England. Lucius was dead, he killed himself before being given a life sentence in Azkaban. Bellatrix was dead, she was killed by Molly Weasley. Voldemort was dead, killed by Harry Potter.

Granger was fine, she was here in the castle two floors above him.

He felt his heart rate slow and he took a few more deep breaths until the nightmare became a wisp of a memory. He briefly wondered what had caused him to have such nightmares after all these years - he couldn't even remember the last time he had one. He chalked it up to first day nerves, it always set him on edge. He refused to entertain the thought that it was due to the surprise of seeing the bushy-haired muggleborn again.

Draco swung his legs from under his sheets and checked the pocket watch sitting on his nightstand. Six in the morning, earlier than he wanted to get up but too late to go justify going back to sleep. Not that he could, with how alert that nightmare had made him.

He settled on taking an extra long shower and made his way to the adjoining bathroom, the stone floor cold under his feet. Normally, he'd set a warming charm to it before he got out of bed but today he relished in the icy feeling, it helped ground him. After a showering and dressing in his usual black robes that Neville said heavily reminded him of the ones Snape had worn, he set out for the Hall for breakfast.

Reaching the top of the dungeon stairs, the chill of the air left when he stepped into the Entrance Hall. It felt mild - cool, yet still tinged with warmth - and there was a dampness in the air that led Draco to surmise it was currently raining. The Hufflepuff dungeon door opened across the hall and Susan stepped out of it. Her long blonde hair was braided in its usual style down her back and she looked as though she was still half-asleep.

"Morning," Draco called to her, his voice echoing against the stone. Susan startled and looked over to him before giving a sheepish smile.

"Morning, Draco." She stifled a yawn as they met at the door to the Great Hall.

Draco quirked an eyebrow down at her and smirked, "Long night with Longbottom?"

A bright blush quickly covered Susan's face and she waved her hands wildly. Her voice came out in a harsh whisper as she looked up and down the corridor. "Sh! Keep your voice down before someone hears you!"

Draco let out a small huff of a laugh at his friend, thankful to find they were the first ones to breakfast. She and Neville had started dating at the end of term last year, and Draco found every opportunity he could to remind them they were breaking the rules. Professors weren't allowed to date (in case they had a nasty break up and were still forced to work with each other. Apparently, it had happened back in the '40s and caused quite a few broken windows) but Draco would never rat on his friends, he just liked to tease them of it constantly.

The pair walked to the faculty table at the head of the room, sitting down to find a small breakfast spread prepared for them. Draco poured himself a large mug of coffee, sipping it contentedly before piling his plate with a generous portion of eggs and bacon. Gone were the days of his schoolboy gauntness now that he actually ate the meals at Hogwarts. Though he was unusually tall and still somewhat lean, the regular meals and the fact that he was able to fly as much as he wanted, had allowed his body to fill out. Underneath his loose black robes was the body of a well-muscled man - not that he was boasting, of course.

"So." Susan started as she sipped her tea. "What was up with you last night?"

The bacon turned to ash in Draco's mouth and he took a large sip of coffee to get it down. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come on, Draco. You could cut the tension between you and Hermione with a knife. What was up with that? Aren't you guys civil? You and Harry are friends, aren't you?"

"No Potter and I are not _friends_. I just tolerate his presence because for some reason my oldest friend went and married him. Granger just hates me."

"Not that it's any of my business but did you ever try apologising to her? Like you did for me and Neville?"

Draco's breakfast sat heavily in his stomach, "I've tried to. Several times... but she's just so...so... she's Granger! She'll never accept my apology no matter what I do so I figured why bother, I never thought I'd speak to her ever again, nevermind that we'd fucking work together!" His blood was boiling in his veins and he threw his napkin on his plate, his appetite completely gone. "But you're right, Susan. It _is_ none of your business."

He stood and made to leave but Flitwick and Neville rushed into the hall and joined them at the table, both downing their breakfasts in a rush.

Draco looked over at Neville with a quirked eyebrow as he sat back down, "Important date?"

"The Head of House meeting is in ten minutes!" said Flitwick, before pausing to chug a glass of orange juice. "Neville and I got caught up in a conversation with Hagrid about slug repellant for his giant pumpkins and now we're running late."

Draco sat up straight from his seat, "How come no one told me about the meeting?!"

"Oops..." Susan grimaced next to Neville, "I was supposed to tell you. Sorry, Draco."

"Well, we would've had it last night after dinner like usual, but _someone_ decided to storm out before we could." Neville gave him a pointed look before standing. "Come on, let's go."

Draco glared at the back of the Herbologists head as the group quickly walked through the Entrance Hall, up the staircases to the third floor and down two hallways to the Headmistress's office. Flitwick was panting when he caught up to the back of the group as they came to the Gargoyle statue. Neville called out the password, "Raspberry Marshmallow." and the statue stepped aside, revealing the spiralled staircase.

Susan was the first at the door after they had climbed the stairs, so she rapt her knuckles against it and stepped back when it swung open. They all clamoured inside the circular room, finding McGonagall sitting behind her claw-footed desk. The eyesore that was the Sorting Hat was placed next to her on a stool. She finished her scribbling on a piece of parchment and deftly rolled it up as they neared her desk.

"Thank you all for joining me," she said as she stood. "This will be a quick meeting."

Draco looked over her shoulder to where the portrait of Dumbledore hung. His figure was sitting at a desk, feeding a perched phoenix liquorice snaps. He met Draco's stare, and the Potion Master swore he could see that damned twinkle in his eye as he looked over his half-moon glasses at him.

Next to Dumbledore's painting was Snape's. The painted figure never failed to cause Draco's stomach to lurch every time he looked at it. The ex-death eater was standing next to a bubbling cauldron in his version of the Potions Classroom. It was cluttered and messy, with nothing labelled, which had always driven Draco's well-organized mind crazy. The portrait of Severus was always stirring away and adding various ingredients to the concoction. Never once had he looked up to acknowledge Draco - not that Draco ever tried to get his attention, the very thought of speaking to him made his heart stutter. He was afraid of what would be said - as much as he denied it, he missed his godfather terribly.

McGonagall's emerald green robes swished around the large desk, pulling Draco from his sullen thoughts. She grabbed the Sorting Hat from the stool and approached the group of Professors.

"Who would like to do the sorting this year?" She said without preamble.

Draco pressed his lips together in annoyance. He didn't know why she bothered asking, Neville always did it. Which is exactly what Draco preferred, as he liked to keep to the shadows and away from the spotlight. Neville stepped forward and offered himself as usual but McGonagall shook her head.

"As much as I appreciate your willingness to help, Neville, The Gryffindor Head of House has been doing the sorting for a very long time. I'd like to have another Head do it this year."

"Well, you know I can't," said Flitwick adjusting his glasses and looking all-important. "Since I conduct the Frog Choir."

McGonagall nodded and looked to Susan, who squeaked and held up her hands, "A-as much as I'd love to help, Headmistress, I um. I-I can't, I have a fear of public speaking..."

McGonagall sighed, she glanced over to Draco and his eyes widened.

Oh, no _fucking_ way.

"No." He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the tattered hat in her hands. "I'm not doing the sorting. Let Longbottom do it, he _wants_ to. No one cares if another Head does it, in fact, I'm sure most of the parents would prefer that I didn't."

Truer words had never been spoken. All the grief McGonagall had been given for allowing Lupin to teach, had nearly doubled when she also allowed a Malfoy into the school faculty. It had taken months of Ministry supervised classes and countless interviews- much to McGonagall's displeasure- for them to trust him enough and allow him to teach. Though, Draco still suspected most of the parents wouldn't care a fig if he got sacked.

McGonagall pressed her lips together and stretched out the hat towards him, " _I_ want another Head to do it and you _will_ do it, Draco. It's either this or you can supervise every single detention this year. There are only 48 first-years this term, it won't take that long."

Draco sneered and snatched the hat from her outstretched grasp. To say he was annoyed was an understatement but he knew there was no arguing with the Headmistress. He certainly did not want to be in charge of detentions all year.

"Fine."

With that, McGonagall went over the timeline for the school year, ignoring the way Draco glowered at her as he gripped the sorting hat, probably tighter than he should have. After nearly an hour, she finally dismissed them and Draco stalked angrily from her office. He half-ran down the spiral staircase, his black robes billowing behind him. He heard Neville and Susan call out for him, but his long legs had already carried him to the second floor by the time they reached the staircases. He just wanted to crawl back to his dungeons for a little while and be left alone until the school was packed full again.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, he went to the Slytherin Dungeon door and shut it behind him with an echoing boom. The cold air pricked his skin and he took a deep breath, relishing in the chill as it filled his lungs. Tonight was going to be a struggle. He'd be able to push himself through it of course, but knowing that didn't make it any easier.

The tattered hat in his hands suddenly felt very heavy. He walked down the stairs to his Potions Classroom and dropped it on the first desk he saw. Draco walked to his enchanted cabinet at the back of the room, where he kept most of his potions. It was charmed so that it wouldn't open for anyone except him, unless a potion was needed in an emergency. He located a bottle of Draught of Peace and took a small sip, the contents spreading warmth through his body until he felt light and carefree. He stowed the rest of the bottle into his trouser pocket. He was sure he'd need some more before the sorting.

He grabbed the pocket watch from his robes and checked the time. It was nearly nine, still eight hours until the students arrived. Settling himself at his desk, he decided to continue to work on his syllabus. Maybe he'd get to finish the one for the second half of term.

Three hours later, Draco stood and stretched from his desk, trying to work out a kink in his neck. He had worked quickly and had finished all of his preparations for the school year. Most of the older teachers thought it was idiotic to spend time every year creating new lessons, but he liked to keep it fresh for the sake of his own sanity. He couldn't imagine teaching the same thing the exact same way for years on end. He'd go mad.

Deciding he'd go for a quick fly around the quidditch pitch and then come back in for a shower, he accio'd his Nimbus 2001 from his bed-chamber down the hall. It came to a stop just in front of him and Draco grabbed the gleaming black handle. He had never upgraded his broom, even though he could own the whole company if he wanted. He loved his Nimbus, it was one of the only things he had left from his father.

Feeling his blood pumping through his veins at the excitement of being in the air, he raced up the Dungeon stairs. Riding a broom never got old and always made him feel like a child again, how he felt before everything had gone to shit.

Pushing open the wooden door, he stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes landed on a jean and sweater-clad Granger, blocking his path out the main doors. She was standing with McGonagall deeply engrossed in a conversation.

Bollocks, he did not want to deal with that right now. Maybe he could sneak past them and out the Transfiguration Courtyard.

Gently shutting the door behind him, he walked slowly around the staircase and crept along the wall. He was so close to freedom, he just had to turn the corner that led to the Transfiguration corridor. McGonagall's back was to him, and he thanked Merlin for that. He was sure that if the Headmistress had seen him, she would have called him over. He kept his eyes trained on the pair of witches as he walked. He was only a few more steps from turning the corner... Suddenly, Hermione's eyes flickered towards him and he stopped dead in his tracks. His pulse quickened as her eyes narrowed slightly but, to Draco's relief, she looked back to the witch in front of her, just as quickly as she had glanced over at him

Draco stood still for a moment before realizing he had been holding his breath, and he quietly filled his lungs. He felt like a rabbit cornered by a fox. He waited another moment to make sure McGonagall didn't hear him, then quickly shuffled around the corner and out of sight. He let out a shaky breath as the adrenaline in his veins dissipated, and set off out to the courtyard. He mounted his broom quickly and took off into the misty air, heading straight for the quidditch pitch, where he could focus one thing only; flying.

* * *

After his steaming hot shower, Draco methodically dressed in his best suit and black robes. Not that the rest of his robes were of inferior quality, as they were all tailor-made for him. Having the best of the best was a trait deeply ingrained in his blood.

He brushed his hair back from his face until he was happy with how it lay on his head. Draco had changed the style a bit over the years but the haircut he had now was his favourite: short on the sides and longer on top. He could admit he was a vain man and thought that pushing his hair back made him look devilishly handsome. He checked his pocket watch, noting that it was just after three-thirty. His stomach twisted into knots, it was time to head up. He left his private quarters and walked past his classroom, having to double back as he realized the Sorting Hat still sat on one of the desks.

Gripping the tattered hat, he climbed the stone stairs and out into the Entrance Hall. Most of the Professors had already gathered and were milling about in various conversations. He spied Neville and Susan near the front and he made his way over to them, making sure to steer clear of Trelawney, lest she thrust another omen at him.

Neville greeted him with a smile and a wave, "Hey, Draco."

"Ready?" Susan asked him as he approached. She was practically glowing with excitement.

Draco tried to sound scathing but it came out as more of a whine, "I don't _want_ to do the sorting. Why couldn't you do it?"

Susan shuffled her feet, her gaze darting around, instantly fascinated with the room at large. Her perusal halted as she spotted something behind him. The witch peeked around Draco and beamed at whoever was behind him. "Hey, Hermione! You look nice."

Draco looked to the vaulted ceiling in a silent plea to Merlin to hex him so he wouldn't have to deal with this. His plea going unanswered, he reluctantly turned to the bushy-haired witch behind him. Except, she wasn't bushy-haired anymore. Instead, her hair had been smoothed and pulled into a fashionably low wavy ponytail. Her face had a hint of makeup - red lips and winged eyeliner - and Draco's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets at her attire.

"What are you wearing?" He muttered before he could stop himself.

He felt his cheeks tinge pink slightly as her unnerving gaze moved to him. She glanced down to her clothes and his eyes followed for the second time. A flowing black button-down blouse draped her torso, which would have been fine, except it was tucked into an extremely tight, form-fitting, maroon pencil skirt. It hugged her shapely bottom and came to a stop just below her knees, leaving the rest of her legs bare.

His eyes continued south and...

Salazar save him, what the actual fuck was know-it-all Hermione Granger doing wearing shoes like _that_.

Black, pointed pumps encased her feet, made of what looked like suede or maybe velvet, either way, he wanted to reach out and run his fingers over them. The pointed tip of the toebox made the soft shoe seem a little more provocative and the height of the heel... Draco swallowed a lump in his throat, they had to have been at least four inches tall.

Raking his eyes back up her curvy body, Draco suddenly saw Hermione in a new light. Gone was the buck-toothed book-worm he remembered from their school days, though he was sure she was still in there. In her place was a woman that was making his heart beat a little faster in his chest and his trousers tighten slightly.

"You don't like it? Shame. I wore it _just_ for you." Her voice dripped with sarcasm but Draco couldn't stop himself from envisioning all kinds of dirty things that she could do _just for him_. They were the first words she had spoken to him since she arrived, and he couldn't help but notice that her voice sounded like honey. He could feel his erection growing beneath his robes. What the fuck was happening to him?

Her nose wrinkled in disgust and he scowled back at her, trying to keep his cool facade. No doubt she'd hex him within an inch of his life if she knew what he was thinking. Suddenly, he was shoved out of the way as Susan elbowed him in the stomach and grabbed Hermione's hands. He moved his glare to the blonde, wondering why, exactly, they were friends.

"Ignore him, he's just mad he has to do the sorting. You look great, I look like a potato compared to you."

Neville reached out and poked her arm, "You do not," he whispered so no one but their group would hear. "You look beautiful as always."

Susan blushed and moved back next to Neville and Hermione rounded an incredulous look in Draco's direction.

"You're doing the sorting?"

Draco rolled his eyes and sneered down at her, even with the heels he was still much taller. "Obviously, why would I have the hat otherwise?" He shook the fabric in her face and smirked in satisfaction when she stumbled back a step.

She crossed her arms and looked up at him with a narrowed glare, "Well, I figured McGonagall would have picked someone a little more _approachable_ and _nice_ when doing something as scary as being sorted. But really, I'm just shocked you know how to read."

Draco blinked at Hermione's words. He didn't know whether to laugh or feel offended. "Excuse me?" He let a wicked smile stretch across his face as he stepped closer to the witch. "I'm as cuddly as a kneazle kitten."

Hermione scoffed. "I highly doubt that."

Draco let out a low hum and stepped even closer to her, their arms brushing slightly. He loomed over her so much she had to crane her neck to look up at his face. He wanted to toy with her, to make her feel as uncomfortable as he was feeling, looking at her in those damned shoes. His breath came out in a low and heated whisper, "Would you like to find out?"

A crimson blush bloomed over Hermione's neck and cheeks, nearly matching the colour of her skirt. Draco grinned down at her and let out a sharp laugh as she opened and closed her mouth, obviously trying to find a retort that didn't involve any sexual innuendos. He glanced behind him at Neville and Susan thinking they would share his amusement but instead, they were both looking at him with wide eyes.

Hermione, to Draco's disappointment, was saved any further embarrassment as McGonagall approached them with a roll of parchment. She held it out for Draco to take.

"The list of first years. Do you have the hat? Oh good." She sounded nervous but turned to address the rest of the faculty. Her voice instantly switched to the familiar commanding tone that echoed against the stone, "Everyone ready?"

All the Professors nodded excitedly and Draco's stomach began to twist as he realized he was about to be the first one to greet a bunch of eleven-year-olds. He could hear the loud, boisterous conversations as students neared the castle. The older ones would arrive first, as the first-years would still be on the boats with Hagrid.

With a flick of her wand, McGonagall opened the large doors, allowing the new year to begin.


	3. I want your shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy hump day! Here is a little mid-week pick me up. :)
> 
> Beta love to Srastrr and FaeOrabel! All remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I also want to give a huge thanks to all the lovely people in the Hermione's Nook Facebook chat, for allowing me to put them in my story as first years being sorted! lol 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! (Also, after this chapter, we will start getting to some good stuff I promise (; )
> 
> *Below manip was created by me!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49625465082/in/dateposted-public/)

**Chapter Three: I want your shoes**

Draco stood awkwardly at the Entrance Hall door, watching Hagrid clamour through the front courtyard followed by 48 bright-eyed students. His hands were now empty, save the list of names, as the sorting hat had been taken by Neville to place on the stool in front of the Headmistress's podium. The rest of the faculty and the older students had all filed into the Great Hall almost ten minutes ago, leaving Draco to pace back and forth while he waited. The damned Draught of Peace was doing nothing for his nerves.

Peeves, the bloody annoying Poltergeist that he was, had screeched through the halls about the "ickle first-years invading." Luckily for Draco, he had left quickly, probably worried the Bloody Baron would come out and yell at him if he was too loud.

The half-giant stepped through the door, extinguished his lantern, and gave Draco a wink. He turned back to the group of children, "Now this 'ere is Professor Malfoy. He'll be yer Potion's teacher and he'll be taking you in fer yer sortin'." Hagrid gave him a nod and dipped into the Great Hall, followed by the sound of various cheers at the large man's arrival.

Draco's mouth had suddenly gone very dry as he looked at the young faces that filled the hall. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, trying his best to put on an air of importance.

"As Professor Hagrid said, my name is Professor Malfoy and I will be your Potion's Master." He began to pace in front of them, needing some type of release for his pent-up nervous energy. "In a moment, we will go through that door and you will be sorted into your houses. While you are waiting, I expect you all to remain silent until your name is called. Once you are sorted, you will join your house at their table." He stopped pacing and faced the group. "Any questions?"

No one raised their hand and Draco turned on his heel, his black robes flaring out behind him. "Right then, follow me."

He led them through the door, taking note of the older students seated at their tables. Loud applause came from the Slytherin table upon his arrival and he sent a small smirk their way. He eyed the faculty at the head of the room, his smirk widening a little at Hermione's scowl. No doubt she was still positively fuming from her earlier embarrassment.

He stopped in front of the Sorting Hat and turned back to the first years, gesturing for them to come a little closer. Once the final student had joined the small crowd, the hat sprang to life to sing its song.

" _A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young sorcerers_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their own house, for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones, they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favourites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

_'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_He whipped me off his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

Light applause filled the hall at the end of the song and Draco looked at the new students with mild amusement as they all stared at the hat in wonder. His heart was beating in his throat as he felt all eyes turn to him with expectation. He unrolled the parchment in his hands, picked up the hat from the stool and called out the first name, "Uriah Allen."

A frumpy looking boy stepped up to the stool and plopped on to it, glancing around the room nervously. Draco set the hat on his head, and after a few moments it called out "Hufflepuff!"

Cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table and the boy quickly scurried towards it. Draco called out a few more 'A' names, some going to Hufflepuff, one to Ravenclaw and a Nigel Anders to Slytherin. He started on the 'B's, "Kirsty Barnes!"

A girl with strawberry blonde hair and a large dimple in her left cheek approached the stool confidently, sitting on it in one fluid movement. Draco set the hat on her head and waited.

And waited.

And _waited._

He checked his pocket watch, six minutes had already passed and the other students were starting to get restless. He looked towards McGonagall who was watching the Sorting with extreme interest. She gave him an encouraging smile, which only made Draco's impatience grow.

He was about ready to yank the bloody thing off the girls head and sort her himself when the hat finally yelled out "Hufflepuff!" The loudest cheers yet echoed in the hall as the girl hopped off the stool and walked to their table.

After sending another 'B' to a very loud Gryffindor table as they welcomed their first first-year, he narrowed his eyes at the parchment in his hands.

"Gemzi Bob...Booba..." He puffed out an angry breath through his nose. "Gemzi Bob-ba-loo-la." He had to slowly sound out the last name and he heard a few of the older students snicker. He swore if this one ended up in Slytherin he was going to hex himself. That last name was frustratingly hard.

A petite girl with dark brown hair cropped in a short bob and freckles smattered across her cheeks approached the stool and blushed as a Gryffindor called out "Yeah, Booba!"

Draco glared in the direction of the yell and placed the hat on her head. She had to keep it held up as it nearly fell past her ears, but it quickly shouted "Ravenclaw!" and she all but ran towards their table.

He worked down the 'B's, thankful there wasn't another difficult name. He went through all the 'C's, only one of them being noteworthy. Deacon Cooke, whose strikingly dark and handsome features made Draco recall what Blaise had looked like as a child. He had been sent to Slytherin, unfazed as if it was exactly what he had expected.

Working through the 'D's, 'E's and 'F's, he came upon Patrick Gorman, a lanky, brown-haired boy who looked like he had just grown into his limbs. He had tripped walking up to the stool and would have collided with the ground if Draco hadn't caught him.

Surprisingly, he had been sorted into Gryffindor. Gorman must have been just as surprised as Draco, because he blinked confusedly before walking, and nearly tripping again, to join the cheering table.

Draco speedily read through the 'H's, 'I's, 'J's and 'K's, wanting this to be over and done with. He came to the 'L's and yelled out the first name, "Kira Lietmann!"

A pale girl with curly hair pulled into a top bun stepped forward and was sorted into Ravenclaw before the hat could fully touch her head. The House cheered loudly as she approached and took her seat amongst her peers. Draco only hoped the rest of the Sorting went that quickly; he was starting to get hungry.

He looked at the next name, Barbara Madsø, what the bloody hell was that symbol? Some kind of fancy o? "Barbara Madso!" A tall girl with long dark blonde hair and green eyes walked up to the chair. As she passed him she whispered, "It's pronounced Mads-uh, Sir."

Oh for fucking Merlin's sake, Draco was never doing the Sorting again.

To his chagrin, she was placed in Slytherin. Of _course_ , she was - only someone with an o like that in their name would be put in his house.

Reading quickly through the rest of the 'M's, 'N's 'O's and 'P's, Draco thanked Merlin he only had five names left. The very last P, Elissa Phillipps, a tall girl with skin the colour of milk chocolate and black tightly curled hair, was almost a hat stall as well. Draco nearly tapped his foot into the ground as he waited but thankfully, she was sorted into Hufflepuff after almost three minutes of wearing the hat.

No 'Q' names, and only one 'S' & 'R', both being sent to Gryffindor. Only one 'T', Georgia Toogood, a short little thing with a blonde bob so curly and frizzy that it nearly rivalled Hermione's. She was instantly sorted into Slytherin, the hat only sitting for a few seconds on her head. She gave Draco a large grin as she scampered off to the roaring table to the side of the hall. He'd have to watch out for that one, she screamed troublemaker.

The final student, Maxwell Zebley, was swiftly sorted into Gryffindor. Draco almost cried with happiness as he walked to the faculty table and finally took his seat next to Neville.

"You did great, Draco!" Neville whispered to him while Flitwick and the choir students began to set up. Draco gave him a tight-lipped smile before turning to the singing group. He was happy it was over and Slytherin had gained fourteen of the new first-years.

After a very long song about love and suffering amid croaks of toads, McGonagall took her place at her podium to give her start-of-term speech.

"Welcome everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, another year of magical learning awaits you! I know everyone is hungry so I'll keep this short and sweet. Firstly, I'd like to introduce the person who will be taking Transfiguration over for me, Professor Granger." The students all began to whisper loudly at the name, for everyone knew who Hermione Granger was. Draco glanced over to her to find her blushing and trying to hide in her seat.

He scowled and sat up straighter in his chair, she'd have to get used to it. Adolescents had a way of gossiping and she was sure to have a million and one questions come the start of classes tomorrow.

McGonagall held up a hand and the whispers quieted instantly, "Now, I hope you've all read over the list of approved and unapproved Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products, as anyone found with an unapproved item will find themselves in detention." She looked around the room, eyeing a few of the known troublemakers in a tense silence. "And to the first-years, the Forbidden Forest on the outskirts of the castle is off-limits to anyone who does not wish to die a painful death."

After a moment's pause, she dropped the stern look and gave the room a smile, her voice booming into the silent hall. "And with that, I say, dig in!" She swept her arm in the air and the tables lined with food, the loud sound of children's conversations soon filled the silence.

Draco allowed himself a moment to watch the students as they ate. A few of the first years seemed transfixed with the food and their house ghosts; he smiled to himself when Nearly Headless Nick showed his almost-decapitation to the, now horrified, Gryffindor first-years. Tucking into his food, he couldn't help the jovial feeling spreading through his chest. Every year he was just as excited as the last to start teaching, and tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Starting the third week of school, Draco sighed as he read over the homework of his third-year class. Did no one know how to spell? All they had to do was tell him the uses of a Wiggenweld potion in eight inches and the paper he was grading - from a Hufflepuff boy that was notorious for half-arsed homework - had spelt it Weginwold. It was literally right there in their textbooks!

He took out his ruler and measured the parchment, six inches, as he thought. Tutting to himself he marked it with 50/100 points and wrote a - probably too snarky - note about spell checking and measuring. He sat a moment and stared at his words before grabbing his bottle of Ink-B-Gone and blotting the liquid to the pages. Draco knew his temper could occasionally get the better of him and he needed to speak to this boy about his work in a more polite manner. Once his words had disappeared, he rewrote the message, "See me after class." This was a conversation that was best said in person.

He briefly wondered how Hermione was doing with her classes, they hadn't spoken again since the start-of-term feast. He guessed that she was avoiding him, probably too embarrassed over his poking fun at her. Or maybe she was angry with him since, when they did catch each other at meal-times, she pointedly ignored him with an angry demeanour, making it quite awkward for the other Professors. Which was fine, he prefered her ignoring him.

The only downside to the whole thing was she was still flouncing about wearing those saucy little outfits.

_And the shoes._

Merlin, did she like to wear the most mouthwatering shoes. So far he had seen those black velvet pointed-toe pumps numerous times, they seemed to be her favourite. But he had also seen a pair of nude patent leather wedges and another that Draco had dubbed 'barely there' heels. They were pale pink, with only one strap around the ankle and another just beneath the toes, with the skinniest heel he had ever seen. They made Hermione look as if she had no shoes on, they were definitely _not_ Draco's favourite.

His afternoon class of sixth-year Slytherin's and Gryffindor's filed in and took their seats, pulling Draco from his thoughts. He stood from his desk and gave a brief lecture on the day's assignment: to brew a successful Ageing Potion.

He went back to his desk as they all gathered their ingredients and began their potions. He kept a watchful eye on them as they worked and after a short while, walked around to assist as needed.

A loud bang sounded at the back of the room and a shriek echoed nearby. Draco spun around from where he had been helping Lytle, a Gryffindor who always had a knack for ruining his potion. The dark green liquid of the ageing potions they had been working on was splattered on the walls and the floor. Two Gryffindor boys, Eli McAdams and Cassian Kane, who were the bain of Draco's existence, dripped in the green goo - as did at least ten other students. He could see crows feet sprouting at their eyes and their hair began to turn white.

"McAdams, Kane! What happened?!" Draco spat out as he rounded on them. Thankfully, this particular potion did not have the potential to become that volatile, unless you were in the possession of some very expensive, and very illegal, ingredients. He heard a few of his Slytherins snicker as they began to stutter for an explanation.

"Well see I-" Kane stuttered.

"We just-" McAdams interrupted.

"You will tell me now, or you will both lose fifty house points." Draco narrowed his eyes and loomed over them. " _Each_."

"It was a Bombtastic Bomb, Sir..." said McAdams as he looked down to the ground. "We accidentally dropped it into our cauldron."

Draco pressed his lips together, saying a silent curse to those damned Weasley twins and their infuriating products, before flicking his wand to Accio a few bottles of Anti-Ageing. He tampered down his anger before holding out the bottles to the various students who were covered in the green sludge. "Drink these before you all turn ancient."

They all downed the contents quickly, nullifying the ageing process instantly. He'd have to send them to Madame Pomfrey, however, to reverse the effects.

He turned to one of his favourite Slytherins, Cecily Blitwick, a short, black-haired girl who always wore a screwed up face as if everything smelled wrong. She was his best student and always more than willing to help out. "Go get Mr Filch, I believe his services will be needed. Anyone that came in contact with the Ageing Potion, go to the infirmary. Everyone else, continue with your assignment."

He regarded the room, giving them all a stern look before turning back to McAdams and Kane, who had been trying to silently sneak out the door with the rest of the students, " _Not_ you two. You're coming with me."

He stalked from the room, his robes billowing behind him menacingly. He was absolutely furious, and so wished to give the boys a piece of his mind. That potion could have been _anything_. What the hell would he have done if they had been studying poisons instead of the ageing potion? Merlin what if they had been studying fucking _Amortentia._ The boys needed a real punishment; Draco could easily dish out taking house points and detention - which he fully intended to do. But no... a real punishment for any Gryffindor was disappointing their Head of House, and that's exactly to whom he was leading them.

Thankfully Neville had a free period, and Draco walked them to the empty Greenhouses. He heard the sound of muffled talking coming from his office in the back and, worried he had found him and Susan in a precarious situation, he called out instead of knocking on the door. "Professor Longbottom?"

The muffled voices quieted and Neville poked his head out from his office, "Hey Drac-" Neville cut himself off as he realized two of his students stood nervously behind him. He stepped out of his office, closed the door and walked up to them. "Professor Malfoy, what can I do for you?"

"In case you've failed to see the beards and wrinkles, these two-" he pointed an accusatory finger at them, "Decided to drop a Bombtastic Bomb into a cauldron full of Ageing Potion, turning themselves and a few classmates into geriatrics. Now, if I recall correctly, that was on the list of unapproved items, wasn't it?"

Neville pursed his lips at the elderly looking Gryffindors and they instantly started to protest.

"Sir, we didn't mean to drop it!"

"We found it! It wasn't even ours!"

To Draco's dismay, Neville's office door opened a second time and Hermione emerged from it, looking extremely cross. Today's ensemble was made up of a tight white lace shirt, dark blue slacks that draped her legs in a fashionable sort of way, and white leather stilettos. Salazaar save him, _why_ did she have to wear such tantalizing heels? She left her curls loose, and they bounced as she approached them. Carrying her teacher robes in her arms, she thankfully put them on quickly, hiding her distracting body from him.

"Professor Malfoy." She greeted him cooly.

"Professor Granger." He replied in a clipped tone. He turned back to Neville. "As I was saying, I'll be docking fifty points from Gryffindor and they'll both have detention for a month. Though, I think they deserve more than that."

Hermione snorted and he whipped his head to her. She crossed her arms and regarded him with a pinched expression. "I think that's a bit harsh. While they should have certainly turned it in instead of keeping it, they said it was an accident."

Their long white beards whipped back and forth as the boys nodded earnestly at her words, but quickly stopped and looked to the ground as Draco fixed a glare at them. Hermione gave him a sickeningly sweet smile with red-stained lips as he turned his glare to her. "I'm sorry, _Professor_ , were you made Head of Gryffindor? I wasn't informed of the change."

Her face lit up red with anger and Neville cleared his throat loudly before Hermione could retort. The tension in the air was palpable and he held up his hands to try to defuse the tension. "I'm sorry, Professor Granger, but I have to disagree with you. The punishment is more than fair, McAdams and Kane were well-aware of what it was they held in their hands."

At his words, the two boys looked up mournfully at Neville. Draco felt bad for only a moment, before remembering the stink-bomb they had let out at the farewell feast last year. Giving Neville a nod and turning to the young Gryffindors, he looked down at them with a stern look.

"Be at my office at eight _sharp_. Bring some muscle, you'll be cleaning cauldrons the muggle way. Hopefully, you won't still have the bodies of old men." He nearly laughed at their stricken faces at the idea they could still be old by their detention and quickly left them with Neville before he cracked.

Chuckling to himself as he reentered the castle, his smile instantly dropped when he heard the sound of heels on stone.

"Malfoy, wait!"

As much as he desperately wished to keep on walking as if he hadn't heard her, he knew she was stubborn enough to follow him all the way down to the Dungeons. He turned with a quirked eyebrow and regarded her with nothing but feigned surprise.

"Why, Professor Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Are you always so contemptuous with students? Or do you just make it a point to be that way with Gryffindors?" she asked, finally catching up with his long strides and huffing a little as she tried to recover her breath.

"I'll have you know those two are known pranksters, nearly as bad as those Weasel twins. Not that I need to explain myself to you, but I _know_ those two didn't just find that bomb."

He made to turn around and walk back to his classroom but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked down at the witch with widened eyes. Why did she care so much about these two?

Her face was still pinched and she was boring a hole into where her hand was touching him. Her dark brown eyes snapped up to meet his in a sad gaze. "I'm sure they've both done idiotic things in their time here, but did you ever stop to wonder why they act out?"

She paused for a moment and when Draco remained silent, she continued. "They both lost their parents in the War. Cassian's father married a muggle, as did Eli's mother, and when their names were placed on Hogwarts' new student list as half-bloods before the end of the war..." She trailed off, her eyes flickering back to the stone floor. "They look to Neville as a father figure, and he's very disappointed in them. So please, lower your punishment."

Draco's stomach dropped and his hands balled into fists at his side as he pulled his arm from her grasp. He knew what it was to lose parents, with his father having killed himself before his life-sentencing to Azkaban, and his mother barred from ever returning to England. Losing parents wasn't an excuse for the things they had done throughout the years, but he could _maybe_ understand them a little better.

"Fine," he spat out. "I'm still taking twenty points, but I'll reduce their detention to a week." He narrowed his eyes down at her and sneered. "But don't you dare undermine me in front of students again, understood?"

Ignoring his threat, Hermione's face lit up at his words and his heart stuttered a little in his chest as she beamed a bright toothy smile at him. "Oh, thank you, Malfoy! I'll go back and tell them."

"I didn't say I was going to do it for free."

Hermione had turned to walk back to the greenhouses but stopped at his words. "What?"

"This will come at a cost. I don't do anything for free, I _am_ a Slytherin, you know." He crossed his arms and smirked as she blinked at him.

"And what, exactly, do you want?" Hermione asked cautiously. Draco grinned at her discomfort; she was probably imagining he'd ask for all types of nefarious things. But there was only one thing he wanted, and they were currently tapping on the cobblestones.

"I want your shoes."

He delighted as she reeled back with obvious confusion, "Excuse me?"

"I want those blasted heels, and for you to have to walk barefoot for the rest of the day. You can come to collect them after the boy's detention. Say, ten o'clock?"

He swore he could see the gears in her head clicking as she thought about her choices. "Tick-tock, Granger. I don't have all day. Maybe fifty points and a month's detention would do them good..."

Pressing her lips together and letting out what sounded like a growl, she bent down and removed the white heels, instantly becoming four inches shorter. She shoved them into his outstretched hand, and he gave her a wide grin in return.

"Thank you very much. I'll see you later then."

Draco laughed at her furiously reddened face and her choice of swear words. Oh, he was extremely pleased with himself. Giving her a wave with her shoes, he walked back to the Dungeons, whistling a jaunty tune that echoed in the halls.


	4. Happy Birthday, Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love to GCgraywriter.
> 
> And guys. Next chapter...phew. That's all I'm saying. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> *manip created by LumosLyra- thank you so much!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49663410018/in/dateposted-public/)

Chapter Four: Happy Birthday, Hermione

"Good night, gentlemen. I hope you've learnt your lesson. Next time I won't be so lenient!" Draco called out to McAdams and Kane, now beardless and back looking their actual age, as they scurried out of the Dungeons. They had been there for just under two hours, scrubbing furiously at pewter cauldrons while Draco graded papers.

He had given then a long, _long_ lecture on the importance of safety when dealing with potions. He made it a point to explain to them what would have happened had that been poison instead. They had looked properly chastised and upset, and Draco had felt sorry enough to cancel the rest of their detentions. Damn it all, he was getting soft.

Draco turned back to his desk, Hermione's tall white stilettos sitting on it like a trophy. He checked his pocket watch, she should be here any minute to come and collect them. He sat on the edge of his desk as he picked one of them up, eyeing it. It had a T-strap down the centre, connecting to the enclosed toebox and coming up to wrap around the ankle. He ran his finger over the smooth leather, his trousers tightening slightly as he imagined a dainty foot and leg slipping into them.

A dainty foot and leg that looked an awful lot like Hermione's.

"Can I have those back now? My feet are rather cold."

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at Hermione's voice from the doorway. She stood there, her teacher's robes gone. The trousers she wore were now dragging on the floor, too long for her short legs without the heels.

"Did I scare you, Malfoy?" She smirked and leant against the doorframe, placing a hand on her hip.

"Of course not, it's just I can usually hear your loud arrival from across the Castle."

He grinned as the smirk dropped from her face and she walked further into the room, looking around with her eyebrows raised, "It's so... organized."

"Yes, well. I was trained by Slughorn, you know. He and I both have an appreciation for a well-labelled cabinet."

"How did you manage to become a Professor by the way? You never took your N.E.W.T.S., right?" asked Hermione.

Draco smirked and crossed his arms, "I had to take my Potions N.E.W.T.S. and earn an O. Slughorn gave me an even more extensive test, plus the year of apprenticing. They made me prove myself, don't you worry about that."

Hermione looked momentarily impressed but hummed at his answer and turned back to the cabinets.

An awkward silence filled the cold air while Hermione stood in the centre, inspecting the room. Draco didn't really know what else to say, they had never had this civil of a conversation before. He itched to make a sarcastic comment or a jab but really couldn't think of anything.

He racked his brain for a moment before blurting out, "Your hair looks different." Okay, sure. Not exactly what he was going for but better than telling her he liked the way her trousers swelled over her arse.

She turned to him with a confused look and slowly approached where he sat on his desk. "I suppose I've been able to tame my curls a bit better since we were kids." She gestured to the heels on the desk. "Can I please have those back now?"

Draco grabbed her shoes and ran his fingers over the leather. "What if I don't want to give them up? Maybe I should make you pay for them."

Hermione huffed irritably. "You've already made me walk barefoot all day _and_ come down here after curfew-"

"Granger, we're _professors_. We don't have a curfew, anymore." Draco tried not to laugh at her face as she tried to piece a retort together. With reluctance, he held out the shoes to her.

She snatched them from his hand and pulled out her wand to run a diagnostic spell to check for jinxes. Draco made an indignant sound in the back of his throat and Hermione looked at him sheepishly as she pocketed her wand.

"Sorry, Malfoy. Just had to make sure you didn't spell these for the heels to break off once I step in them."

As if he would dare to ruin such a perfect pair of shoes.

Draco crossed his arms. "Granger you wound me. I would have at least made sure they wouldn't break off until you were in the middle of a lecture."

She let out a small huff of a laugh as she placed them on her feet and Draco sat up a little straighter at the sound. He had made Hermione Granger _laugh._

"Thanks for letting me borrow them, by the way. I enjoyed having something pretty sit on my desk all day."

A few seconds of silence passed and Hermione's face turned scarlet red. It took a moment before he realized what he said and his eyes widened at her. "Oh, I didn't-"

"Don't know what you mean!" Hermione quickly interrupted as she left the room with the familiar sound of the clicking heels. She called out a "Goodnight, Malfoy!" that echoed in the cold hall.

Draco sat stunned, now left alone in the room, before a grin split his face. Did Granger just... think a perverted thought? He wondered if she was thinking the same thing as him. Though he could admit her shoes did look rather pretty on his desk, it would look prettier with her sitting on the wood instead, wearing them and nothing else.

He adjusted his trousers as the mental image caused him to harden. Draco was a dirty-minded person, so it only made sense that he would think of something like that. But why, exactly, had _her_ mind gone straight to the gutter before his?

Perhaps Hermione Granger wasn't the prude he knew her to be.

* * *

The tenth fucking owl so far that morning swooped in and dropped another package at Hermione's seat, nearly knocking over Draco's coffee. The blasted witch wasn't even there yet and she had a pile of packages towering on the table. What the bloody hell was going on?

"Morning, Draco. Oh good! Mine got delivered." Neville said as he sat down and looked over the ever-growing pile of boxes. A tawny barn owl flew by, releasing a heavy square package that thumped on the table and sent another box flying straight into Draco's porridge.

Letting out an annoyed cry, he turned to an amused looking Neville, "What the fuck is all this? Some Granger fan club?"

Neville laughed lightly while he piled his plate. "It's her birthday."

"Oh." Of course, he was such an idiot. He vaguely recalled Hermione had always been one of the first birthdays of the school year.

The familiar sound of clipped heels on stone had him glancing to the door to find said witch approaching the table. She was already wearing her teacher's robes, so he could only guess what today's outfit was. Maybe she had decided to be daring for her birthday and wear nothing but lingerie underneath?

Shaking his head, he tried to knock the thought from his brain. Merlin, he needed to get laid. It had been years since his last romp. Maybe Hermione would let him give her a birthday present... He choked slightly on his coffee at the surprisingly lewd idea and glared at Neville when he harshly patted his back.

Draco could, at the very least, spy her heels and his mouth dried at the sight. They were her tallest yet, easily over five inches tall and a slim band crossed over her ankle to hold them on her feet.

But the best part? They were _red_ and not that, dainty cute pinkish red, but dark and sexy and _Merlin_. He began to imagine Granger with nothing on, save her teacher's robes, sitting wide open for him on his desk. Those pumps still on her feet and perched prettily on the edge as she begged him to take her against the wood. Draco felt himself harden under the table and he had to stop himself from panting like a common dog at the very idea.

"Morning, Hermione. Happy birthday." Neville greeted her with a smile.

"Morning, thank you," Hermione said as she rounded the table and stared down at the packages littering it with a frown. Students began to fill the tables and Gorman, that klutzy first-year Gryffindor, stumbled up to them with a small wrapped box.

"H-Happy Birthday, P-professor Granger." He mumbled out, holding the box out with shaking hands. Hermione smiled down at him and took it, pulling off the bow to find an assortment of sugar quills.

"Oh thank you very much, Mr Gorman! These are my favourite."

Not believing it to be possible if Draco hadn't seen it for himself, the boy's blush deepened even further. He let out a squeak and made to turn back to his table but tripped over his own feet, stumbling down the platform to the stone floor.

Draco rolled his eyes at the boy's antics as he lifted himself up and ran back to his table. He turned back to Hermione as she let out an irritated sigh. "What's wrong, Granger? Did your admirers not get you what you wanted this year? You have so many presents I'd think that nearly impossible."

To make Draco's point, three more owls flew in from the window, dropping another set of presents on the pile. Hermione pressed her lips together and cast a shrinking charm on all of them, scooping them off the table and into her pocket. With a narrowed glare aimed at Draco, she grabbed a piece of toast and left the hall.

"Really Draco? It's her birthday, be nice." Neville shook his head with obvious disappointment at his friend.

Well, that did make him feel a _tiny_ bit bad. He supposed they had been rather civil with each other the past week. She had even stopped when he emerged from the Dungeons yesterday to walk with him to dinner. Should he have gotten her a present? Was she expecting one? Now he felt like a right arse, he didn't even wish her a happy birthday.

Draco didn't have much time to mull over it, however, as his first class of the day was starting soon. Leaving Neville to sit alone, he retreated back to his classroom.

* * *

The air was quite chilled that night and Draco pulled his cloak a little tighter around him. He was sitting in the faculty stands as he watched the Slytherin quidditch team practice. They had just added a new Keeper and currently, he was getting his arse kicked.

Tyson passed the quaffle to Juniper as they neared the rings. Coghill geared up to block but was too slow and the ball sailed right over his shoulder and through the hoop. Draco growled under his breath as the team Captain, Abigail Vear, flew over and started yelling at him. Not being able to stand watching the downfall of his team any longer, he trudged back up to the castle for dinner.

There were only a few students filling the tables and almost no professors, save Hagrid and Hermione, who had just finished eating. He ignored both as he plopped down into his seat at the table and grumbled into his plate.

"You alright there, Draco?" Hagrid asked him from the end of the table.

"He's just mad because his new Keeper is terrible," Susan answered for him as she and Neville came up to the table and took their seats.

"I don't understand how he made the cut. He can't block a throw to save his life." Draco growled as he ripped a bite angrily from his turkey leg.

"Why don't yer come down fer a nightcap later? Te cheer ya up a bit." Hagrid asked, tapping his nose with a knowing smile.

Draco sighed but nodded, "That actually sounds nice, Hagrid. I could use something stronger than wine."

He looked over at the half-giant and saw Hermione's eyebrows raise in surprise at his agreement. He sent her a smirk and turned back to his plate with a little more enthusiasm, her astonishment at his friendship with Hagrid delighted him.

_Not the same git you remember from school, am I, Granger?_

A few hours later, Draco trudged down the pathway to Hagrid's hut, his dragon hide boots squelching a little in the mud. He came up to the door and knocked, tapping his feet lightly to try to get some of the dirt off. He heard the door swing open while he was looking down.

"Really Hagrid, you could at least make a decent stone pathway from the Castle. It took me ages last year-" He glanced up to find Hermione standing in front of him wearing those damned red pumps he had tried not to fantasize about all day. A bloody sexy, skin-tight, long-sleeved black dress hugged her body, the hem stopping just at her knees caused his mouth to water slightly.

Merlin what was this witch doing to him.

"'Ello, Draco! Hope you don't mind 'ermione stoppin' by too. I had a birthday present to give 'er." Hagrid hollered to him from where he sat at his table.

Hermione stepped aside to let Draco enter, and he straightened his back at her condescending smile. "Nope, that's totally fine."

He walked in and took the overly large rickety stool to Hagrid's right, Hermione sitting between them on the left.

"Got some Firewhiskey fer us." Hagrid said as he uncorked a bottle with a loud _Pop!_ and filled three shot glasses with the amber liquid. Well, they were probably shot glasses to him, but to Draco and Hermione, they were just small-sized cups.

Hagrid held up his glass and yelled, "Happy Birthday, 'ermione!" before downing the contents in one gulp. Draco held up his glass to her as well, but remained silent, only being able to get about half of its contents down. Hermione grimaced into the firewhiskey before taking a tentative sip, instantly choking on it.

Draco and Hagrid both started to laugh as she coughed and she rounded an incredulous look at them. "How can you drink this?!"

Draco could feel the warmth of the whiskey spreading through his veins, making him feel a little sleepy and content. Which is exactly why he let out a yelp as something climbed up his leg, digging claws into his trousers.

Now it was Hermione's turn to laugh, as Draco jumped from his seat to find a kitten gripping onto his leg. It was a white fluffy little thing, with bright blue eyes. It meowed up at him before trying to climb higher. Hermione reached forward and pried it off, cooing at the furball while it stared down Draco from her arms.

"Half-kneazle that," said Hagrid as he poured himself another drink. "I knew yer had been missing Crookshanks, Harry told me. So I figured..."

"She's beautiful, Hagrid, really. Thank you, the best present I've gotten in years."

Draco could see the bright blush spread across the half-giant's face as he retook his seat. "Was Crookshanks that fuzzy orange thing? What happened to it?"

" _He_ was my cat, thank you very much. He died a few years ago. I missed him terribly but never really thought about getting another until this pretty little thing came along." She held the tiny kitten up to her face and gave her a kiss on the nose. It let out a dainty meow and rubbed its head against Hermione's chin, it's loud purr filling the hut. "I think I'll call her Calliope."

Draco wrinkled his nose at Hermione's name choice and knocked back the rest of his drink. "Calliope? Really? Why not something simple like Snowball or Vanilla?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "How absolutely boring. No, Calliope suits you just fine, doesn't it?" The now monikered Calliope let out a light meow at the question and Hagrid laughed.

"Whelp, no point arguing there. She seems te like it."

Hermione nodded and let out a small yawn, "Thank you for her, Hagrid and the uh... drink, but I think it's time for me to head to bed." She stood and made to leave. Before Draco could even think of what he was doing, he stood too and reached a hand out to grip her arm, dropping it just as quickly once he realized what he had done.

"Uh." _Shit, think Draco, think._ "I'll walk with you?" He had meant it to be a statement but damn it all, this firewhiskey was getting to him.

"Okay..." Hermione arched an eyebrow but said goodnight to Hagrid and left out the door, Draco following close behind. They walked a short distance from the Hut before Hermione whirled on him, Calliope mewling softly in her arms.

"What was that in there?"

Draco stumbled back a step, caught by surprise at her sudden shift in demeanour, "Sorry?"

"That, your-you. Being friends with Hagrid!"

A large grin overtook Draco's face as he crossed his arms and looked down at Hermione. "You didn't think I was actually friends with the big lug, did you? Well, points for me, Granger. I _am._ "

Hermione narrowed her eyes, adjusting the half-kneazle who was trying to cuddle in her arms, "How did that even happen?"

Draco shrugged, "We bonded over a drink one night at The Three Broomsticks. He invited me over for some firewhiskey and we just became friends after that." That wasn't exactly the whole story, but he wasn't going to tell her that they had spoken at length about the war and their _feelings_. Or that they had cried together in their drunken stupor. No, that was a secret he would take to his grave.

Hermione pursed her lips and regarded him. Draco could see her mind whirling behind her eyes. After a moment of silence, she stuck her hand out for him to shake. "I'm quite confused about you, Malfoy. You're still a complete ass sometimes but Neville and Susan like you, Hagrid likes you, most of the students like you so... truce?"

Draco considered her hand for a moment as he processed her words. "Truce? Were we fighting?"

Hermione dropped her hand back to her side and awkwardly shuffled her heeled feet, "Well, no but I just thought you know, with everything..."

Merlin was she adorable.

"I thought we were already becoming friends but if you need a truce then, sure. Truce." Now Draco was the one to hold out his hand for her to shake and she smiled up at him before taking it. Her skin was soft and warm and maybe it was the alcohol mucking up his brain but he immediately envisioned what it would feel like wrapped around his cock.

_Stop it, Draco, you horny bastard. You're just tipsy._

They began their trek back to the Castle, though their pace had slowed considerably as they walked, neither one in quite as much of a hurry as they had been.

"Draco, can I ask you something?" Hermione blurted out, cutting the silence. He hummed in agreement, urging her on. "Why did you decide to become a teacher?"

Draco's response was immediate. He had been asked that question many times over the years. "It sounds silly but I wanted to give back; I felt like I _had_ to give back after the War. I sold the Manor after my dad ki-died and donated the proceeds to help with the Hogwarts rebuilding. That's when Slughorn had told me he was going to retire. He asked me to take over for him and it just... made sense. After a while, I found myself actually looking forward to waking up in the mornings."

Hermione had stopped walking and Draco turned around to look at her. Her eyes seemed to glass over as she regarded him and her voice came out thick as if she was holding back unshed tears. "I think that is a very noble reason to want to teach Draco, and I'm very sorry about your father. It was a shock for all of us when we heard." She placed her hand on his arm for a moment, her warmth seeping through the black fabric. Draco swallowed a lump in his throat and silently nodded in thanks.

A smirk broke over her face as she dropped her hand, "But there's one thing I don't believe... a Malfoy _donated_ money? Did Hell freeze over?"

Draco snorted, thankful for the change in subject. "There's a very handsome plaque with my name on it in the Trophy Room if you'd like to check."

Hermione only smiled in reply and they began to walk again. Draco looked down at her from the corner of his eye. Calliope had tucked herself into the crook of her elbow and was now asleep.

"Can I ask you a question now?"

Hermione looked up at him with a raised brow, "Sure."

"How come you left the Ministry and came here?"

The smile fell from Hermione's face and she looked back down to the ground. "I just... wasn't happy. Any law I tried to pass was denied by the Wizengamot, my boss barely supported anything I did. The final straw was when I tried to go for a promotion and it was denied, they told me I needed to work on my _initiative._ As if that wasn't what I had been doing for the last five years! I suddenly realized I had done nothing with my life. McGonagall had been after me since the end of the War to take over for her so I just... accepted. I only wish I had done it sooner. I've been so happy these past few weeks." The smile returned to her face as she looked at him, making his heart skip in his chest.

Another question dug at the back of his mind that he just had to know. "What did Weaselbee think about that?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, "Ron? He was surprised but I suppose he was happy for me. I don't really talk to him as much as I used to since he moved to Romania. He wasn't always that good at replying to letters."

"You mean you and Weasley aren't together? I thought you would have gotten married right after the War." Though now that he thought about it, he was sure it would have been splashed across the Daily Prophet front pages for months.

Hermione let out a light chuckle, and their arms brushed slightly. Draco hadn't realized how close they had been walking together. "No, no we aren't. We did date for a few months but the publicity... Well, it got to Ron. He couldn't take it anymore so he decided to accept a job at the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania with his brother. Our relationship was already starting to end by that point but we still parted as friends."

"And you didn't date anyone after that?" What the bloody fuck was wrong with him? _Why_ was he asking all these ridiculous questions? She had to think him absolutely mental, but Hermione only laughed again as she replied.

"I dated a few men over the years but I don't know. Nothing ever seemed to work out. I think most of them just wanted to say they dated Hermione Granger."

Draco frowned at her answer as they reached the Castle entrance. How sad that must have been, to only think men were only after you for your fame. She must have been very lonely. The silence between them turned awkward and Draco itched to break then tension. The clicking of her heels on the stone made a question pop into his head.

"When the hell did you decide to start wearing heels? The Granger I remember would have scoffed at the very idea."

Hermione let out a genuine laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls and straight into Draco's chest, making him feel a little lighter at the sound.

"You can thank Ginny for that, actually. She bought me my first pair for Christmas a few years ago. They were these gaudy, awful bright pink colour and nearly six inches tall but I absolutely loved them. I practised walking in them until I was able to take more than two steps without breaking my ankle. One day I just decided to wear them to the Ministry. It was the oddest feeling. I felt... powerful. I'm not sure if it was the height difference or what but I suddenly found myself buying all different kinds of heels. "

Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to will away the hard-on that had sprung up in his pants at the idea of Hermione in those stilettos. Salazaar save him, he nearly moaned out loud at the thought of her bossing him around...

"Did you hear that?" Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and looked around the corridor. They were in the West wing, nearing Flitwick's office. For a moment Draco's heart stopped thinking he _had_ actually moaned out loud, but then he heard it too. The sounds of shuffling shoes and soft voices from behind a door. Hermione looked at Draco with wide eyes. "You don't think..."

Draco smirked, "I've caught many students out of bed doing all kinds of things, Granger. It's not as uncommon as you think." He walked quietly down the hall until he figured out which door the sounds were coming from. A broom closet, how original. He yanked open the door to find two sixth year students, a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin, heavily snogging against a supply cupboard. They pulled away with a jolt, their robes and hair in disarray.

Draco leant against the frame with one arm and a scowl, "I think that'll be twenty points from Hufflepuff, Thorebourne and thirty from Slytherin, Vear. Don't give me that look, you know I'm not above taking points from my own house. You're the Quidditch Captain, you should know better. Now get back to your dorms before I add detention to the list."

The two students scurried away with bright blushes and Draco let out a chuckle as he shut the door.

"I can't believe you took more points from Slytherin. Don't you think you should've given a detention too?"

Draco smiled over at Hermione who had been standing to the side, watching him with the students. "I'm not like Snape, I try to be fair. Plus they're young and naive, I envy them."

They continued walking back to their rooms, now coming to the Entrance Hall.

Hermione snorted, "We're young too, you know. We're only twenty-five."

"Correction, I'm still a spritely twenty-four. You're the one who's twenty-five, practically a crone."

Hermione let out a laugh, smacking his arm lightly. The sound made Draco's already buzzing head spin further. He liked her laugh, it sounded like chimes tinkling together and it made his heart race.

Before he knew what he was doing, he leant down and pressed a swift kiss to her cheek, pulling away with a small smile. He stared down at her dumbfounded face before opening the Slytherin Dungeon door.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione."


	5. I don't want to be your friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't apologize for a single thing in this chapter.   
> 
> 
> Beta love to Srastrr!
> 
> *Chapter warning: Slight Smut and Light Alcohol Abuse*

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49674109057/in/dateposted-public/)

Chapter Five: I don't want to be your friend

" _Draco..."_

_A whispery sensual voice filled the room and he turned towards it, finding Hermione standing in the centre of his classroom. She was wearing a black lacy bodysuit and insanely high white suede platform boots that came up just over her knee. The heel was thick and he could hear it hitting the stone with a thump as she walked towards him. Her curls were wildly bouncing around her and her red painted lips parted slightly as she came to stand in front of him. She ran her hand up his suddenly bare chest, her heels tall enough that she was a few inches taller than normal._

_Draco looked down to find himself standing completely naked, his erection pressing into Hermione's lace-clad hip. She ran her fingernails gently down his torso, heading straight for his cock at a tantalizing pace. She wrapped her soft hand around it firmly, licking her lips as she watched his face flush._

_Draco let out a breathy moan as she began to pump, her red lips pressing against the base of his neck. Her lips stuck slightly to his skin, and he imagined a perfectly shaped mark now sat where she had kissed._

" _Does it feel good, Draco?" She whispered heatedly against his skin._

_His head lolled back and he hummed in response, unable to form words. Hermione swirled her thumb over the head, passing over the sensitive spot just underneath. Draco bucked his hips and reached up to tangle a hand into her curls, leaning down to press a fervent kiss to her lips._

_She willingly opened up for him and their tongues swirled together hungrily, making Draco's cock twitch in her hand. She continued to pump him as he pulled away to trail wet kisses down her neck, earning a few throaty moans from the seductress before him._

_Before he knew what was happening, Hermione stepped away and crouched down, setting her knees on the cold stone floor. She looked up to him with honey-coloured eyes laced with lust and a small smile before she reached up and grasped his length. Never breaking eye contact, she leant forward and parted her ruby red lips, taking him into her hot, wet mouth._

_He let out a low moan as Hermione began an agonizingly slow pace. Her tongue swirled his cock in tandem and her grasp of him moved with her head. The colour from her lipstick was staining his cock and smearing around her mouth, but the messy sight only turned him on more. She was able to take him completely, which was a feat in of itself, as he knew he was bigger than most men. When her lips hit the base of his cock, she'd moan to prove she was enjoying this too. The warm vibrations shot to every nerve in Draco's body and he could feel his legs turning to jelly beneath him._

_Hermione began to increase her speed and he could feel himself nearing the edge._

_So close..._

_He was so close..._

Draco's eyes cracked open from where he laid sprawled out on his bed. It took him a moment to get his bearings as he flipped onto his back. He looked down to find the sheets tented from where his morning erection was pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. The dream still lingered in his subconscious mind.

Fuck.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and groaned. He could not be dreaming about Granger like _that_. He'd take his nightmares over that any day. It was dangerous territory, dreams always had a way of screwing with his reality. His erection twitched in his boxers as he recalled the way her mouth had swirled deliciously over the head...

Well, there was no reason to waste a perfectly good boner.

Flipping off his sheets, Draco looped his thumbs under the waistband and pulled down, freeing his hard-on from the silk fabric. He grasped himself roughly and began to pump, closing his eyes to try to remember the dream.

_Her red-painted lips moaning his name. Her soft hand gripping his cock. Her tongue swirling around the head, leaving streaks of red lipstick on his skin. Those suede heeled boots with black silk laces along the back that pulled them tightly to her skin..._

He began to increase his speed, his legs moving around and tangling in his sheets as he neared the edge. With a grunt, he came into his hand, some of it hitting his stomach from the force of his orgasm.

Draco laid panting for a moment as he tried to piece his brain back together. He just wanked off to the imaginings of Hermione Granger sucking him dry. He could feel himself get a semi as the dream returned to the forefront of his mind.

Oh, he was absolutely and royally fucked.

* * *

"Happy Halloween!" said Neville as he took his seat next to Draco, who was currently drinking himself in a stupor.

It had only been three days since he first started dreaming of fucking Hermione, and they had only gotten worse. He had dreamt of her, spread across the faculty table in the Great Hall like his own personal feast, wearing nothing but those red heels he liked so much. He had dreamt of taking her in the library, pressing her to the shelves and fucking her against it until the books fell off.

But worst of all, he had dreamt of making _love_ to her slowly and passionately in his bed, whispering sweet nothings into her ear while she rode him to completion.

He had raided his stock of Sleeping Draught to try to quell the images in his mind, but it had gone bad and Hagrid's Flobberworms weren't mature enough yet to be juiced. Which left him to deal with his dreams the old-fashioned way.

Alcohol.

He took another sip of his whiskey-laced pumpkin juice, the warmth settling in his stomach and flaring out to his extremities. He nodded to Neville in greeting and raised his cup in a silent salute. The rest of the faculty began to fill the table, and the students filed in a moment later. Bats flapped their wings from above and Hagrid's giant, now carved pumpkins floated around the purple-lit hall.

McGonagall took her seat at the centre of the table and with a wave of her hand, the tables filled with all sorts of things, from cauldrons filled with candy to giant steaming venison roasts. The students excitedly dug in, loud conversation filling the room.

Draco reached for the pumpkin juice to refill his cup. He nearly spilt it over the edge as Hermione's voice sounded just behind him.

"Sorry, I'm late, got caught up in grading papers. I didn't realize what time it was!" She took her seat next to Professor Vector, and Draco set the pitcher back to the table with shaking hands. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was wearing that tight black dress she had worn on her birthday, the fabric clinging to her delectable breasts. He wondered what colour her bra was, if her panties matched like they did in his dreams...

Fuck, he needed to stop looking at her. Draco had tried his damned best to avoid Hermione at all costs these past few days, which was surprisingly hard to do. They had become friends since her birthday last month, she'd often visit him down in the Dungeons or they'd go to Hagrids together.

It was nice, until these damn dreams started.

He snuck out a vial from his suit pocket, uncorking it quietly and dumping it into his pumpkin juice before anyone noticed. He chugged it down until the glass was empty, repeating the process a second time. He leant back into his chair, sipping his fresh juice as he stared down at his empty plate. Food would only make him sober, and he couldn't have that right now.

"You alright, mate?" asked Neville, looking at him with a quirked eyebrow.

Draco nodded his head, the firewhiskey making his movements more languid than normal. He sat up slightly and adjusted his suit then set his goblet down on the table. "Just haven't been sleeping well, s'all." Did his words sound slightly slurred?

Neville frowned but turned back to resume his conversation with Susan and Professor Babbling when they asked him a question. Draco continued to sip his drink and grimaced into his cup when he discovered it had emptied. He reached into his pocket to find all five vials empty. Had he really drunk that much? Well, he needed more, he wasn't nearly as inebriated as he wanted to be.

"I'll be back, Longbottom. Jus' gotta go to my office quick." Draco patted his friend on the shoulder before standing and stumbling between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. He smiled at a few students, who looked at him oddly. Did he have something on his face?

He reached up and rubbed at his cheek, feeling a small stubble growing. When was the last time he had shaved? He exited the Great Hall and was making his way towards the Slytherin Dungeon door when his name was called out from behind him.

He turned to find Hermione walking purposefully towards him, her chest heaving a little as she tried to catch up to his long strides. Her familiar black pointed-toe pumps clacked on the ground and her dress hitched slightly up her hips as she came up to him.

"Why are you ignoring me?" She crossed her arms, her breathing heavy and her curled hair that had been clipped to the side, was now coming undone.

"Dunno what you're talking about, Granger." He needed to get out of here fast. Her scent of honeysuckle and vanilla engulfed him, making his head buzz even more than the alcohol.

"You've been avoiding me for the past few days! Did I do something? I thought we were... becoming friends." Her face looked so crestfallen and her bottom lip pouted slightly.

He had the sudden urge to catch it between his teeth and nibble until she was begging for more. Fuck, he couldn't look at her anymore. Draco turned back to his path, shuffling his leaden feet towards the Entrance Hall.

He could hear the tapping of Hermione behind him, trying to keep up.

"Malfoy! Don't you dare walk away from me! Explain yourself." Her voice echoed inside his brain, or maybe it was echoing inside the hall. Either way, it urged him on and his legs carried him to just in front of the Dungeon door.

Draco tried to pry it open, but the wood had stuck to the stone and his drunken mind couldn't quite figure out how to unstick it. Hermione came up behind him and shoved his shoulder, placing her hands on his hips and looking up at him with a fierce stare.

"If you don't want to be friends then tell me! Just stop being a complete arse."

With a growl, Draco forcefully yanked open the door, the sudden shift of it nearly knocking him over. He grabbed Hermione's wrist and yanked her inside, shutting the door with a loud bang. He spun and pressed her back up against it, their bodies fitting together in all the right ways.

He pressed his knee between her legs and her dress had ridden up so high it was only a few inches from revealing her underthings. He placed his hands on her hips and squeezed gently, leaning down to trail his nose up her neck and inhale her tantalizing scent. He stopped at her ear and watched as goosebumps erupted over her skin. She gripped the front of his robes tightly, pulling him so close he was sure that she could feel his hard length pressed against her pelvis.

"I don't want to be your friend," he whispered. "Quite the opposite. I want to rip your dress off and spread you out on my desk so I can fuck you into the wood. I want to ravish you in every single pair of heels you own, in every room of the bloody castle."

Draco pulled back to look down at Hermione. Her face was beet red and her breathing was erratic but her eyes were glossed over with unmistakable lust. He bent down, intent on stealing a kiss from her pink lips but before he could reach them, she shoved him back and whipped out her wand.

"Locomotor Wibbly!"

His legs gave out beneath him. He watched in slow motion as his body tilted back, headfirst down the stairs. Hermione's eyes were wide and she had covered her mouth in shock, but that was all he saw before his head hit the stone with a resounded crack and Draco's world went black.

* * *

Merlin's balls his head was _pounding._

Draco cracked his eyes open, squinting harshly against rays of sunlight. Sunlight? Where was he? He slowly looked around the room and sat up in surprise. Why was he in the infirmary?

His head began to spin from the sudden jolt of movement and he let out an audible groan as he dropped his head back to the pillow.

"Your lucky a headache is all you've got, Professor." The stern voice of Madame Pomfrey came from the other side of the room. Draco looked over to see her walking towards him, carrying a glass of pale orange liquid "Invigoration Draught, drink up and you should feel better. Honestly, Draco, to get drunk like that and try to use stairs?" She tutted and held out the glass to him.

Draco gladly downed it's contents, sighing in relief as the pounding in his head eased. What had happened last night? He remembered getting completely sloshed and going back to the Dungeons to get more alcohol but after that... nothing. He could feel his heart thump behind his eyes when he tried to recall it. He handed the glass back to Madame Pomfrey, "Thank you. Do you know what happened...?"

She pursed her lips together, looking down her nose at him with the familiar scolding look she gave everyone who didn't care for their health. "The Baron found you in a heap at the bottom of the Dungeon staircases, having just fallen down them. He went and got Neville, who brought you to me. You were knocked out cold, you're very lucky you weren't bleeding.

His head felt fuzzy, did he... Wasn't he speaking to someone before he fell?

Now-" She refilled the glass with more of the draught. "It's only eight o'clock, and since it's Saturday, rest for a bit. Then drink this and you should be good as new." Pomfrey gave him a pointed look which meant there was no room for argument, so Draco nodded and set his head back to the pillow when she left.

He was still wearing his suit from the night before, now completely wrinkled much to his chagrin, and he slid off his jacket, leaving him in a black silk button-down. His shoes had been taken off at least, and they sat on the chair next to his bed. Letting out another sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to push off thoughts from last night. Trying to remember what happened was only making his headache return.

After a few moments of counting his breaths, he fell back into a light sleep.

By the early afternoon, Draco woke and his headache was gone. He downed the second dose of Invigoration Draught and unwrinkled his suit before thanking Madame Pomfrey, who gave him a long lecture of drinking and using stairs. His stomach had begun growling the moment he woke the second time and he descended the stairs with a bounce in his step, heading to the Great Hall for lunch.

The Hall was mostly filled, the older students getting ready to head to Hogsmeade for the first time that year. A few of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs eyed him curiously as he passed. Had he done something completely embarrassing last night?

Susan and Neville stopped their conversation as Draco joined them at the table, both gave him the same pinched expression as Pomfrey.

" _What?_ " Draco growled out, irritated with the whole lot of them. He had already been given an earful from Pomfrey, he didn't need it from his friends too.

"What's been with you lately?" Neville asked, turning in his seat to face him fully. "You've been in a mood all week, and then you drink yourself into a stupor last night."

"You could have been really hurt!" Susan piped up before Draco could reply. "You're really lucky-"

"Yes, yes I _know_! I'm really lucky that I didn't smash my fucking head on the stone and crack it open. I _get_ it." He started angrily grabbing food, squashing a ham sandwich onto his plate. "I'm fine. Except I can't remember what the fuck happened and it's making my head pound."

Neville sighed beside him, leaning back against his chair. "You fell down the stairs and hit your head, what's there to remember?"

Draco glared at the Herbologist, trying to add extra glower. "How about you lose a chunk of your bloody memory and then tell me there's nothing to remember."

Neville held up his hands in defence, "Why don't you ask Hermione? She ran after you when you left - she never came back to the feast."

Okay, now his head was really pounding. He massaged his temples as flashes of images popped into his mind. He saw her standing in the Entrance Hall, looking upset. Then pressed against a door with her skirt hitched up...

What the _fuck_ happened last night.

Susan checked her wristwatch and stood. "C'mon Neville, we gotta go. Sorry Draco, we're supervising the Hogsmeade trip this weekend. I'm glad you're feeling better and try to take it easy, yeah?"

His friends left, as did most of the students, leaving him alone at the table. Draco sighed and picked up his ruined sandwich, taking a bite of it glumly. He needed to figure out what happened to him last night.

And to do that, he needed to find Hermione.

* * *

After he finished eating his little to be desired sandwich, Draco set about to Hermione's office. He knocked and waited a moment but when no answer came, he poked his head in through the unlocked door and looked around. It was empty, so he continued his path around the castle. He checked her usual spot in the library but she wasn't there either.

Draco sighed and sat on a bench in the Courtyard, dropping his head into his hands. His headache was returning at full-force. Where could Hermione be? Had she maybe gone to Hogsmeade?

A soft mewling sounded from in front of him and Draco looked up to see the white fur of Calliope stalking towards him. She jumped onto the bench and butted her head against his arm, a loud purr emitting from her throat.

"What do you want, cat?" Draco asked sourly. His headache was starting to make him irritable, the half-kneazle getting white hairs all over his black suit making him even more so.

Calliope mewled again, jumped from the bench and sat on the ground expectantly.

"I don't have any treats, if that's what you're after."

Her large fluffy tail swished against the ground and she stood to turn in a circle like she was waiting for him to follow. With his headache, Draco didn't have any energy to argue with a damned cat, so he sat back on the bench and closed his eyes. "I'm not following you if that's what you want. Go away."

A sharp hiss filled his ears and his eyes shot open when he felt the sharp sting of claws in his leg. On reflex, he stood and shook his leg, the furball detaching herself from his trousers. She mewled again and began walking towards the corridor, stopping just at the entrance to turn back and look at him.

Draco sighed loudly. Fine, guess he was following a damned cat.

Calliope led him through the halls that went straight to the Greenhouses. Why was she taking him there? His boots thumped as the path went from stone to solid ground and he could hear what sounded to be aggravated grunts coming from inside.

He poked his head in to see Hermione, dressed in a pair of skin-tight jeans and a fuzzy jumper. He was disappointed to find she had traded in her usual heels for a pair of muggle runners. She had an apron tied around her waist and was currently wrestling with a large Venomous Tentacula. She had her wand out, attempting to cast a Severing Charm at its vines but it was moving around so much that by the time she'd point her wand at it, it would move out of the way.

Hermione let out a swear as the Venomous Tentacula moved one of its vines to curl around her thigh. She let out a triumphant "HA!" when she was able to cut the limb off and the rest of the plant receded from her grasp. Hermione slammed the appendage down on the table next to her and spun towards the door when Draco let out a chuckle.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. Calliope mewled at his feet before walking forward to weave between Hermione's legs. He'd have to remember to thank the cat later, she had led him right to Hermione.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione's voice dripped with more venom than the Tentacula.

Draco blinked at her angry demeanour. He must have done something bad to upset her this much. "Well, I woke up in the infirmary with a nasty headache and no memory of how I got there. Neville said you ran out after me when I left the Hall." Hermione stayed silent so Draco continued, a ball of nerves settling heavily in the pit of his stomach.

"Did I...?" The image of her standing in the Hall looking upset flashed through his mind. "Did I do something wrong?"

Hermione looked at him angrily. "You mean you have no memory of what happened?"

"Obviously not." His head started pounding again as he tried to recall last night. "The only thing I can remember is you looking upset in the hall." He was certainly not going to mention her pressed against a door, for all he knew that was just a figment of his imagination.

Her eyes narrowed at him and she gripped her wand tightly. "I was upset because you've been _avoiding_ me all week. Last night was the first time we had spoken in days!"

He let out a sigh of relief, he was so afraid he had said or done something stupid. "Oh good, so I didn't say anything bad?"

Hermione clenched her teeth together and her face started to turn red. "You told me-" She turned her back on him, and continued working on the Tentacula. "You know what, it doesn't matter anymore. Just... Just leave me alone."

Draco's throat closed and he opened and closed his mouth trying to find the right words. He knew it, he had said something terrible. "Hermione, if I said something... whatever I did… I'm-I'm sorry, okay? I don't remember."

Hermione ignored him, focusing intently on wrangling another wriggling vine from the plant. Draco took a step towards her, the guilt in his stomach turning into a leaden ball. Hermione spun around, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. She pointed her wand at him so suddenly, he had no time to react before he was dangling a foot above the ground by his ankles, levitated out the door and dropped onto the soft grass.

He could feel his face heating with embarrassment and he scrambled to stand, "What the hell, Hermione!" He turned to the door but, by the time he stood, she had already closed it - sealing him out.


	6. I need your help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love to Srastrr! 
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to Klawdee for making the manip below. I am still in awe of it!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49692253042/in/dateposted-public/)

Chapter Six: I need your help

Draco had knocked on the door for nearly ten minutes, though it had felt like an eternity. He had tried looking through the windows too but Hermione had sealed those as well and placed a barrier so he couldn't look in. He had tried a few spells to try and break it but even he knew Hermione's wards were too difficult for even him to thwart.

He still couldn't believe she had used the Levicorpus jinx on him. Was what he said to her really that bad? What if...

What if he had called her a Mudblood?

Sighing for the umpteenth time since he had left the Greenhouses to wander the corridors, Draco stopped at a nearby window to gaze out over the Lake. Maybe he should try to find Neville or Susan and make them talk some sense into the witch. He had tried apologizing, but she just wouldn't hear it. He felt like a complete and utter arse.

"You look rather downcast."

Draco looked over his shoulder at Remus, frowning at the man in his tattered suit. "Just enjoying the view."

Remus looked over his shoulder and out the window with a small smile. "And why would a beautiful view like this warrant a frown?"

Draco sighed, Remus Lupin was the last man on earth he wanted to share his feelings with. "What do you need, Lupin?"

Remus gave him a knowing smile and clasped his arms behind his back as he stepped next to Draco. "It's a week before the full moon."

Right, Wolfsbane Potion. "Come with me down to the classroom and I'll make you a batch." Draco led them down to the Dungeons and nodded in passing to a few Slytherins mingling in the chilled halls.

When they entered the Potions classroom, Draco set about collecting the ingredients needed. Wolfsbane, powdered silver, crushed moonstone and valerian root filled his arms. He deposited the items onto his desk to set his cauldron above the conjured fire. Remus casually sat atop one of the student's desk nearby, looking around the room with idle curiosity.

Draco added the powdered silver once the water boiled and started chopping the valerian root, eyeing Remus while he inspected the room. The werewolf met his gaze and gave him a lopsided smile.

"Sorry, it just always fascinates me how different you and Snape are. He always kept this room so dirty and cluttered. Where you and Slughorn have always kept it meticulously clean and well-organized."

Draco snorted as he dropped the bits of Valerian root one by one into the now silver liquid. "You're not the first to tell me that, but thank you. I'll take it as a compliment."

Remus nodded and leant back on his hands as he watched the bits of root splash into the liquid. "So, why so glum, Draco?"

Draco caught himself as he nearly added two chunks at once. He mumbled a swear; if he messed even one thing up he'd have to throw the lot out and start over and these ingredients weren't cheap. He shot a glare at Remus' scarred face as he continued dropping the bits in at the correct rate, "I'm not glum. I was just looking at the Lake." Even Draco could hear how pathetic that excuse sounded as he dropped the last piece into the cauldron.

"Uh-huh, right. It wouldn't have something to do with our favourite muggleborn, would it?"

Draco dropped the ash wood stirring rod he had grabbed and it clattered onto the floor loudly. "Lupin, if you're just going to distract me, get out. I can bring you your potion when it's done."

Remus let out a soft chuckle, "Sorry. I just couldn't help but notice you two haven't been on speaking terms recently and then you got completely sloshed and fell down some stairs last night... How is your head, by the way?"

Throbbing in pain? His skull felt like it was about to explode at any moment?

"Terrific," Draco mumbled out as he stirred the contents clockwise seven times. He left the potion to simmer and began measuring out exactly 225 millilitres of crushed moonstone, setting it aside in a silver cup. Remus waited patiently while Draco worked, a glint of humour in his eyes. Solely focused on his work, Draco slipped on a dragon-hide glove before unwrapping the wolfsbane, set it on his cutting board and pulled apart the leaves and flower petals.

He really did not want to have this conversation with Remus. He didn't want to have it with anyone. But his guilt was eating away at him and he needed... as much as it pained him to say, he needed _help_. He dropped the contents of the flower into his mortar and pestle, working it into a perfectly juiced slush before finally looking at a waiting Remus.

"Hermione just... I don't know what happened last night. I don't remember what I said or did. I just remember her looking upset and I tried talking to her earlier but she... shut me out." He pinched his lips together before he accidentally spewed out that he had been jinxed. His pride had already suffered enough bruising for one day.

"Ah, and you're afraid you called her a you-know-what?" Remus asked matter-of-factly.

Draco shot him an incredulous look. How did this man seem to know exactly what he was thinking? Well, not _exactly_ or he'd know that the image of Hermione panting hard and pressed up against a door with her eyes full of lust had also passed through his mind.

Draco nodded mutely and added the juiced wolfsbane to the potion. It sizzled and sputtered, turning a dark blue before a rancid odour filled the room. Both he and Remus' faces screwed up in disgust and Draco began to stir, which eased the smell considerably.

"When was the last time you used that word, Draco?" The older man looked at him expectantly, like he already knew the answer.

"Not since the war."

"Have you thought of it? Said it in your head but not aloud?"

Draco frowned while he racked his memories, "No... no, I haven't."

"Then why would you think you would call her that? It doesn't sound feasible." Remus crossed his arms and sat forward with a smile.

Feasible. No, it was entirely feasible. That word may not have been used by Draco in a long time but it was still in his head. It was still in his memories of hurling it at Hermione. His rational sober mind would never use it but he didn't know what his drunken brain might do.

"She's just so mad at me. What else could I have said?"

Draco's nose crinkled at the fact he had even used that word at all. As a child, yes, he had used it as commonly as any other word but now as a teacher, he had seen what words could do. He had heard vile things spewed from the mouths of other children and he had seen the pain it had inflicted on the bearer of them. Words like that could cause wars, split families apart, and used to try to justify killing. He had seen it all and he vowed to never do so again.

The only other logical explanation would have been that he had said something equally as mean but why wouldn't she have told him?

Having stirred the cauldron in the shape of a crescent moon 10 times, he sprinkled in the moonstone and watched to make sure it melted correctly. He then waved his wand over the potion and smoke the same colour as the liquid began to emanate from it, spilling out onto the cobblestone floor.

"I think you should write to Harry."

Draco nearly dropped the vials he had grabbed from his desk. "Potter? Why the hell should I do something like that?"

"Because he's the only one that knows how to handle an upset Hermione." Remus took the offered vials once Draco had filled them with the Wolfsbane. "Plus, I can tell you like her and there's no use waiting, Draco. The war taught us all that."

He then vacated the room with his weeks worth of Wolfsbane, leaving Draco alone. The blonde wizard mulled over his words when he realized that was the first civil conversation he and Lupin had had in over four years.

* * *

It had taken two weeks for Draco's resolve to break. Two weeks of Neville and Susan being gits towards him. Two full fucking weeks of Hermione ignoring and avoiding him. He now understood why she had been so upset with him, it was driving him mental.

He had tried asking his _friends_ to speak to Hermione for him, but they only replied with "We don't know what you said to her, but you dug your own grave." He wanted to smash his fucking head into the wall.

Draco didn't know what else to do and his irritation was reaching dangerous levels. So, he had reluctantly written to Potter.

It was a simple letter,

' _Granger's mad, I need your help. When can we meet?'_

Harry's reply to it had been in the same no-nonsense tone.

' _Noon, Sunday at the Three Broomsticks. Try not to make it worse till then.'_

With a growl at Potter's insinuation, Draco had crumbled the damned thing and threw it straight into the fire.

On Sunday, Draco dressed simply in a dark green button-down shirt and black trousers. He pulled on his thick grey peacoat and set out to Hogsmeade to meet Harry. For the end of November, the air was chilled more than it normally was. He hoped they had a strong winter, he loved the cold and the snow.

He was glad this wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend for the students, so only the shopkeepers, residents and Madam Rosmerta would bear witness to him meeting the Boy-Who-Lived. Stepping through the Three Broomsticks threshold, he immediately spied the black mop of hair at a table in the back. Rosemerta called out a greeting to him and he gave her a nod in return. He had patched things up with her once he was hired, explained as best he could why he had Imperio'd her. She thankfully understood and forgave him, another weight off his chest in his endless sea of apologies. And he no longer needed to worry about his drinks being spat in.

Rosmerta said she'd bring over the usual, but Draco cut her off to order a gillywater. As nice as a butterbeer sounded, alcohol was not his friend at the moment.

"Potter." He said in greeting, sliding into the booth's bench across from him.

"Draco," Harry said back, a smirk playing at his lips.

Draco frowned, "You know I prefer you to call me Malfoy."

"Well, I'd prefer it if you called me Harry." He leant back in his seat as Rosmerta approached with a large butterbeer for Harry and a glass of gillywater for Draco. She turned to Potter and was about to open her mouth, probably to start spewing some nonsense about the War and the saviour, but Draco cut her off.

"Thank you, Rosmerta. Please make sure no one disturbs us."

She pressed her lips together with a surprised look but nodded silently and went back to the bar.

Harry chuckled into his drink and adjusted his glasses. "Now where were we? Ah right, call me Harry and I'll call you Malfoy."

Draco set his glass back down rather roughly, some of the liquid spilling over the side to the table. "If you just came here to fucking annoy me I'll ask someone else for help."

He was seething, and Harry laughing even louder at Draco's reaction didn't help. He made to stand from the booth but before he could completely slide out, Harry placed a hand on his arm.

"Relax, will you? Merlin, Blaise warned me you get crotchety when you're mad."

Draco slid back into his seat and crossed his arms, glaring daggers at the black-haired wizard. "Blaise can fuck right off."

Harry grinned and took another sip of his butterbeer, "So, what kind of help do you need that warrants an in-person meeting? You said Hermione was mad, what did the ever-perfect Draco do now?"

Draco opened his mouth but Harry cut him off. "And just do you know, if the next words you utter are that you called her a mudblood, I _will_ hex you."

Rage built up at the fact Harry said the exact thing Draco was worried about. "Will you shut up now so I can talk?"

He gestured for Draco to speak and sat back, butterbeer in hand.

"I got... drunk at the Halloween Feast and I don't really remember what happened." He stared at the gillywater in his glass, wishing the damned thing would just fill the room and swallow him whole. "I remember sitting at the table and needing more firewhiskey and then...nothing. Next thing I know I'm waking up in the infirmary with a splitting headache from falling down the Dungeon stairs."

He shot a glare to the raven-haired boy when he let out a chuckle but continued. "Longbottom said I left the hall and Granger followed after me. I tried to talk to her but she was extremely angry with me. She won't tell me what happened or what I said and she's been ignoring me since."

A few details may have been left out, like her hexing him or the fact the reason he was avoiding her was because of the dirty dreams he was having, but no one needed to know about any of that. Least of all Harry Potter.

Harry sighed wistfully into his now empty glass. "This is too good. I can't wait to go home and tell Blaise all of this. Draco Malfoy needing _my_ help, because he pissed off my best friend. It's too perfect."

His grin had Draco livid and his words came out like fiend fire as he spat them out. "I swear on every dead family member I have, I will tell Blaise every single dirty secret I've learned about you over the years. If I recall correctly, there was a small period of time between Ginny and Blaise where you were trying to get into Marcus Flint's trousers..."

Draco smirked triumphantly as Harry's face heated at his words and he mumbled out a "Never getting sloshed around you again."

Harry pouted and ran his hand through his permanently messy hair. "Hermione has a... thing."

"A thing?" Draco looked at him like he had three heads.

"Yeah, a thing."

"What the bloody fuck does that mean, Potter?"

Harry snorted, "You know I'm breaking about a million best friend rules by telling you this."

"Do I look like I care?"

"She likes you."

The floor fell out suddenly from underneath him. Draco's mind was reeling as he tried to process his words. Potter must have been joking, or he meant something else. She liked him as a friend, sure. That had to have been it but Draco needed clarity. "Excuse me?"

Harry pressed on as if he hadn't heard him. "Ever since you stole her shoes, apparently. Which was really weird. Do you have a shoe fetish or something?"

Draco tried to speak over Harry but his words got lodged in his throat at that question. Harry looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer that Draco was _certainly_ never going to give. So he went a safer route. "What do you mean she likes me?"

Harry gave him a pointed look as if to say they would come back to the shoe fetish but he answered. "Listen, I'm only telling you this because I know she's never going to say anything, and by the way you're acting, you weren't planning on it either.

"She came over one night after her birthday, freaking out because you guys were becoming friends. That you liked Hagrid and were best friends with Neville and Susan, that you stole her shoes and made a weird comment and the only thing she could think of was shagging you against a desk. Which was really gross to listen to, by the way. Do you need me to go on?"

No, no he definitely did not need Harry to go on. She was thinking of shagging him against a desk?

Hermione Granger. Prissy little know-it-all. The reason Draco couldn't sleep. She wanted to fuck him? Against a desk? The very idea made him turn rock hard in his trousers right there in the middle of the pub.

Draco couldn't believe it, surely Harry was just having a go at him in retaliation for threatening to tell Blaise about Marcus. "You're lying."

Harry grimaced, "Nope. She was in quite a state of panic, just so you know. But Blaise and I helped work out her thoughts and-" Harry sighed dramatically. "She fancies you, though I think it surprised her."

Draco's entire body felt like it was floating. The woman that had been invading nearly every waking and subconscious thought fancied him.

And she was currently extremely angry with him to the point of avoidance.

"Fuck." Draco leant forward and rubbed his hand over his face. "So what do I do?"

"There's only one thing to do when you like a girl like Hermione and she's mad at you," Harry said matter-of-factly. "You have to leave her alone until she approaches you. If you try to confront her she'll just get defensive and it'll make it worse." Harry paused, "Either that, or she'll curse you into next semester."

Draco arched a brow, "So I just... do nothing? That's your sage advice?"

"Yup. Play the victim card, 'Woah is me' really milk it. You're good at that."

Draco glared at the Boy-Who-Lived, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why the fuck had he asked for his help again? At least one good thing came from it.

He now knew Hermione wanted him as badly as he did her. The only question remaining was, what did he do with this information?

* * *

Draco couldn't stand it anymore. It had been a week since he got Harry's completely unhelpful advice, which meant another week of being ignored. He thought knowing that she wanted him would set his mind at ease, but it only made his dreams intensify.

Which meant every little thing she did made his blood pump harder and his cock twitch with desire.

Hermione had left the minute he sat at the table for dinner that night. He would have been angry, except he got to watch the way her bum jiggled ever so slightly in her tight cream-coloured jumper dress as she walked. His eyes flickered down to find a pair of burgundy over-the-knee heeled boots, leaving only a sliver of thigh exposed between them and the dress. He watched that offending piece of flesh as she rounded the corner out of sight and he took a deep breath trying to calm the hard-on rising under the table.

He couldn't do this anymore. He had to talk to her, he needed to hear it from her mouth that she wanted him or he was going to go absolutely insane from want.

Fuck.

He glanced at Professor Vector and cleared his throat. "Vector, did Granger say where she was going? I have something I need to discuss with her but she left before I could." Well, at least it wasn't a lie.

"Oh, I believe the library. She's always coming and going from there you know-"

Draco had stood, cutting Vector off from any further conversation and he all but ran out of the hall, not even bothering to tell Neville and Susan where he was going. He was glad he hadn't eaten anything, because his stomach was a bundle of nerves as he came upon the Library doors a few minutes later. He silently stepped through and found the main room empty, even Madame Pince was missing.

Now he just needed to find Hermione.

He walked through the empty stacks and found her in the last row, all the way in the back. She was sitting in one of the many wooden chairs, reading a large tome spread out on the desk before her that he couldn't give a fig what the subject was. His heart was pounding in his ears and his mouth had gone completely dry as he stepped into the row.

Hermione's eyes shot to his and his steps faltered.

She shut the tome with a loud thump and pressed her pink painted lips together. "Malfoy, what are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

Yes.

"No. I just..." Fuck, everything he had wanted to say to her left his head the instant her liquid honey eyes met his. He had thought he would create this long flourishing speech but her searing look made his head clear completely. Or maybe it was the way she chewed on her bottom lip. "I just... wanted to talk."

Well, at least he had managed to say something.

She stood from the chair with a pinched expression. "I have nothing to say to you."

She stepped up to walk past him, but Draco was blocking the only exit. She arched a brow that suggested danger should he try to stop her but he didn't care. He had to talk to her.

"Potter told me not to do this but I'm sick of being ignored. I'm sorry for whatever it was I said. I'm sorry if I called you a m-mudblood." He stumbled over the word, so unused to saying it.

Hermione's mouth popped open and she took a few steps back from him. "What do you mean, Potter told you not to? You spoke to Harry?" She seemed completely uninterested in the fact he had apologized or that he had said mudblood.

"I didn't know what to do! Lupin suggested-"

"You spoke to Lupin about this?!" Hermione's voice sounded shrill with mortification.

Draco looked at her with furrowed brows, what was the issue? If anyone should be embarrassed it should be him for having to go to two bloody Gryffindors for help.

"I don't know what _this_ is! I don't remember what I said to you, Hermione! I only remember you looking upset and I'm worried I called you a mudblood or something equally worse or-"

"Oh for Merlin's sake! You didn't call me a damned mudblood alright?!" Hermione yelled over top of him and they both fell silent, their chests heaving for breath. Draco looked at her with wide-eyes and she looked to the floor with reddened cheeks.

"You-you told me you..." She took a deep breath, obviously trying to work up the nerve to say whatever other horrible thing he had told her. "You told me you wanted to ravish me in every pair of heels I own." Her voice had gone quiet as she spoke and her face was now the colour of a ripe tomato.

Draco recalled the other image he had remembered from that night. It wasn't a dream after all. Hermione really had been pressed against the Dungeon door with lust-filled eyes.

"Wait a minute." He was trying hard to grasp at his train of thought. "You were mad at me... Because I told you I wanted to fuck you?"

Hermione refused to meet his eyes, boring a hole into the floor. Draco took a step towards her but she stepped back.

Oh, no. She _was_ going to look at him and explain this.

He continued to step towards her as she retreated until her back was pressed against the shelves, and her breath started to come out erratically. He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him, their faces only a few inches apart. He placed his other hand on the shelf above her, trapping her to him.

"Answer the question." He whispered firmly. He could feel the vein in his neck throbbing as he watched her throat bob with a dry swallow.

Hermione looked everywhere but his eyes as she spoke. "I wasn't mad at you because of that. I-I was mad because you didn't remember, which was my own fault really after I cursed you and you hit your head-"

Draco blinked. "Hold on. You _cursed_ me?" Even as he said the words another image of flashing orange light and the world turning upside down passed through his mind. He let go of her face and stared down at her incredulously.

"I'm sorry! I was just... I was taken by surprise and you were drunk and I made sure you were okay. I was going to take you to the infirmary myself but then I heard the Bloody Baron yelling at Peeves so I-I ran and - Draco I'm _so_ sorry."

He really didn't know what to say. He had been cursed and jinxed by this witch in less than 24 hours. Hermione placed a hand on his chest, bringing his attention back to her. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes but all Draco wanted to do was laugh. He felt relief swell in his chest. He hadn't called her a mudblood.

"Wait, so you weren't mad at me because I told you I wanted to fuck you. You were mad because I didn't _remember_? You ignored me for three fucking weeks because of _that?!_ "

Hermione blinked the tears away at his words and she squirmed angrily beneath his stare. "Well, it's not like you were any better! You ignored me too! And I don't even know why!"

Draco dropped his voice low and slowly pressed his body to hers, bending down to whisper into her ear. "I ignored you, witch, because I've not stopped dreaming of you for _weeks._ I wake up - Every. Single. Morning. And wank off to the thought of you doing all kinds of dirty things to me."

He felt Hermione shiver at his words and she let out an audible breathy, "Oh."

"I was keeping my distance because I was convinced I was the last man on Earth you would ever want. Until I spoke to Potter."

She went suddenly rigid beneath him. "I-I don't-"

"Potter told me all about how to want to fuck me against a desk. Is that true, Hermione? Do you want me to perch on the edge of that desk over there and let you ride my cock?"

His length twitched in his pants when Hermione let out a small whimper at his words. He felt a sense of satisfaction at her obvious uneasiness. Good, she deserved it for the torture she had put him through this past month.

Draco inched closer to her face until they were only a breath apart. The familiar scent of honeysuckle and vanilla filled his nostrils, daring him to close the distance. He whispered into the small space between them, giving her the only way out he would allow.

"Tell me to stop."

She said nothing, and it was all the confirmation he needed.

He closed the distance to capture her pretty pink painted lips with his own. He hoped her lipstick stained his skin and marked him permanently. He could feel her soft, warm body press back for a moment before she pulled away with a _pop!_

He could still feel her pressed against him when she slapped him hard across the face. He could still feel her when she ran from the Library, mortification evident in her features.

Fuck, he could even still feel her later that night as Draco laid in bed and pleasured himself to the thought of her riding him on that damned desk. He laid there panting and formulated his plan. Hermione Granger wanted him, and he was sure as hell going to have her.

He just had to make her want it so bad she'd beg for it.


	7. This isn't over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious beta love to Mrs_Poncey! 
> 
> Enjoy :*

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49691407778/in/dateposted-public/)

Chapter Seven: This isn't over

Draco awoke the next day with a spring in his step. It stayed with him even at Hermione's absence from breakfast, and the start of his Advanced Potions class that day.

The students enrolled in the class, milled about as they worked on their Hiccoughing Solution. Standing behind his desk, Draco cleared his throat, and his students gradually turned their attention from their potions to him. He held up the blacked-out bottle of Pompion Potion he had made at the beginning of the year, feeling it was time to use it. He knew the class would have been suspicious had he offered it at the start of the year as he did with first-years. So he had waited, and in being in such a good mood, decided now was the perfect moment.

"Today, I have an opportunity for someone—," Draco paused, and let his gaze trail the faces in the room, "to earn fifty house points." A buzz of excited chatter filled the air. "Attention. Now I won't tell you what this potion is, but whoever drinks it—and can tell me the name, will earn House points, personal bragging rights, and even get a free pass on today's homework assignment"

He set the bottle down on his desk and waited as the students talked amongst themselves. He, like Slughorn, accepted Exceeds Expectations O.W.L. students in Advanced Potions, meaning this class was rather large. Twenty students filled the desks, half of them Slytherins, the other Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and one—Hermione Granger know-it-all type, Gryffindor.

Of course, it was she who raised their hand.

"Sir," Mattie Quinn, the bookish Gryffindor piped up from her front-seat desk. "I'd like to drink it."

The other professors had expected him to be annoyed to have a walking textbook student—since they knew of his constant annoyance of Hermione in their school days. But Draco didn't mind; in fact, he was rather fond of Quinn. It was nice to know he'd always have someone to answer all of his questions correctly or turn in impeccable homework.

Draco swirled the bottle around in his hand, looking amused. "Are you sure, Miss Quinn? You could end up babbling nonsense for the next two hours or forget everything you've learned today. Do you really want to risk it?"

A vigorous nod made her straight black hair billow around her like ink in water. Draco walked to her desk, placed the bottle on it, and stepped back with a smirk. With a deep breath, Quinn reached for the potion. She exhaled slowly, uncorked the bottle, and sniffed it before downing its content in one go.

"It's Pompion potion, Sir." She said, placing the bottle down. Realization dawned on her face, and her eyes widened whilst the whole class burst into excited laughter. Quinn's face turned a ghastly shade of orange as her head started to swell. Not a minute had passed before her head transformed into a large pumpkin. The front was carved to show eyes and a mouth, while her black hair twisted together on the top to form a stem. She reached a hand up to her cheek as she began to topple forwards to adjust to the new weight of her over-large head. Mattie's carved mouth opened, in what Draco assumed was shock, when her hand came in contact with the smooth surface of a pumpkin instead of skin.

Draco chuckled lightly "Fifty points to Gryffindor for drinking that, Miss Quinn, and another twenty for your ability to identify by taste."

Her voice came out echoey as if she was speaking from inside a cave. "How long will this last, Sir?"

Draco smirked, "It'll slowly start to wear off, your head will be back to normal by lunch."

She looked up at him and nodded, though her head still tipped forward too much from its new weight. Mattie's attention was pulled away by students that came up to bombard her with questions.

"What does it feel like?"

"Is your head really heavy?"

"Can you still see?"

"I love this class, Professor Malfoy is so sound."

That last comment made pride swell in his chest as Draco returned to his desk. He worked hard to make Potions fun for his students, and to hear them say they loved it made everything he slaved over since the war ended worth it.

After a few moments, the students returned to their potions and continued in relative peace. Though, he chuckled to himself a few times when Mattie's head would become too heavy and swayed over her cauldron. It was one of the best classes he had so far that year, the joy from his students filled the room and it warmed the frigid Dungeon air.

His students said goodbye as they swapped with his next class of second-year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws. The younger students laughed at the sight of Mattie's large pumpkin head. He started with the instructions on how to brew a Swelling Solution, and helped them retrieve the ingredients. Once they had all begun to brew and follow the proper recipe in their textbooks, Draco retreated to his desk to grade papers.

"I can't believe Professor Granger gave us so much homework. D'you think she's okay? She seemed really out of it this morning." He heard Hufflepuff, Kate Dennett, pipe up to her partner, Wren Poults.

"I know," Wren replied. "She just kept staring off and didn't even notice I turned my beetle into a zipper instead of a button."

Well, that was an interesting piece of news. Hermione so distracted it was affecting her teaching? How _curious._

Draco stared at the paper before him, barely registering a word written on it as he thought of last night. As much as he tried to will it away, he couldn't deny the slight hardening in his trousers as he recalled the sting of the slap. He enjoyed a bit of pain with pleasure, and it had encased his fantasies last night when he had succumbed to his self-indulgence. He was sure if she hadn't slapped him he would've taken her against the shelves. She had made no protest when he gave her a way out. She never uttered the one word that would have had him retreating from her: stop.

No, instead all she had done was whimper beneath him, and smack him across the face when he kissed her. Even though it had been brief, he still felt her lips on his. So soft, sweet, and so perfect.

He still couldn't comprehend that she fancied him, but wasn't about to question his luck. Quite the contrary, he was going to drown in it. She never stopped him, which only made Draco believe she _had_ to want him. The slap had been from... surprise maybe? That he had kissed her so openly? He hoped she didn't require permission to be asked for every little thing; because Draco Malfoy did not ask. No, when it came to pleasure, Draco Malfoy took what he wanted.

And he wanted Hermione Granger.

The sound of breaking glass pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to find Wren at the supplies cabinet at the far wall of the room, holding a lone bottle of puffer-fish eyes, and surrounded by various broken bottles at his feet. He looked over to Draco with wide, fearful eyes.

Draco stood and flicked his wand to clear away the mess. Taking a deep breath to quiet his rage, he discovered the fallen shelf was due to a broken arm bracket and not to Wren being a bumbling buffoon.

The Hufflepuff stammered out an apology but Draco held up a hand to silence him as he took stock of what he had lost. A few bottles of nettle, a container of puffer-fish eyes and a jar of bat spleens were lost, and Draco was thankful this was not a shelf with any expensive ingredients.

"It's not your fault, Mr Poults," said Draco, when the boy tried to give another apology. "Nothing to be done with a broken shelf bracket. Please go back to your potion."

The boy retreated with a red-face, and Draco cast a few charms to repair the arm. He walked back to his desk and sighed as he sat. Hermione was proving to be quite the distraction.

He couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

* * *

Draco made his way to the Great Hall that night for dinner. The oddest feeling of disappointment turned his stomach when Hermione was absent from the meal. Since hearing that she had been distracted in her classes, Draco found himself becoming the same way. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering to last night in the library, or day-dreaming about what he wished he'd done to her.

Absent-mindedly, he picked at the food on his plate, not having a taste for it. Neville spoke in his ear about something or another but Draco tuned him out.

A hard poke to his shoulder pulled him from his musings and Draco glared at the Herbologist.

"You alright, Draco? You seem awfully distracted." Neville starred with that annoyingly concerned face, and he spied Susan over his shoulder giving the same look.

Saved from having to answer, Draco thanked Merlin as the screech of the evening post filled the Hall. All the witches and wizards looked up, as various owls bearing letter's soared in. A small black one swooped over Draco, dropped a small envelope next to his plate, and took off. Draco frowned as he picked it up, and felt Neville's interested gaze on his hands. He did not recognize his scrawled name in that handwriting on the front but he opened it with a flick of a thumb, his curiosity winning over the cautious gut-feeling receiving an unknown letter created.

_Draco,_

_Thank you_ _ **so much**_ _for not listening to a single word I told you. I specifically said_ _DO NOT_ _confront Hermione. But did you listen? No._

Ah, this was from Harry. Draco felt Neville's attempt to read the letter over his shoulder and shifted to keep it from his gaze. This was his business, and he certainly did not want anyone to know he asked Potter for help.

_I received a lovely howler from her this afternoon at work. AT WORK. The entire floor heard her yelling at me! Do you know how embarrassing that was? I'm trying to impress my boss and co-workers to get the Head-Auror position once Robards retires, and you have completely ruined that._

Draco rolled his eyes; as if anyone else could compete with the great Harry Potter.

_Robards is so angry with me for disturbing the peace in the office, that I now have to do the filing for a month! Goldstein and Finnigan went around to everyone and told them I can't keep secrets, and now the whole floor is laughing at me behind my back!_

_You need to fix this! I told you before to just leave Hermione alone and she would come to you. But, now you've ruined that, so you'll have to think of something else._

_She told me I was the worst friend ever! You better make this right between you two or I'll send_ _ **YOU**_ _a howler every morning for the rest of the year!_

_Harry_

Draco sighed, folded the letter back up, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Something heavy sat in the pit of his stomach. Was this... guilt? Was he actually feeling guilty for Potter? The sensation made him a bit queasy.

Neville and Susan looked at each other before eyeing him.

"Everything okay, Draco?" Susan asked.

He couldn't tell his friends what was going on. They were Hermione's friends long before his, and he knew they would take her side in this. No, he needed to deal with this on his own—he needed to speak with her and try to apologize again.

He had to make her accept it this time or he'd go mad from the stress this situation was causing.

"Yeah, just gotta take care of something. I'll see you guys later."

The half-eaten plate of food had already turned cold, and giving a fleeting glance to Hermione's empty chair, he set off to find her.

Draco's heart hammered as he reached the Transfiguration Corridor. The familiar nervous flutter in his stomach made him queasy. Apologies weren't easy for him, especially when he had to repeat them. Her office door loomed in front of him imposingly and with an attempt to swallow the lump in his throat he knocked—the too-loud sound—reverberated in the empty hallway. With a straight back, he endeavoured to calm his racing heart, as he heard shuffling near the door.

The door opened and Hermione appeared before him dressed in a dark green lace dress and heeled black booties. The sight of her in the green of his House threw him off so much he, for a moment, forgot why he came. She stared wide-eyed before they narrowed into menacing slits.

With a swift movement, she made to shut the door, but Draco reached up and blocked it with his arms.

"Hermione, wait. I need to speak to you."

The grip on the wood was so tight, Draco could see her knuckles turn white. He frowned at her hand, and she let go to cross her arms. The tight lace of her sleeves bunched as Hermione regarded him with a pinched expression, before reluctantly stepping aside.

Draco shuffled past her, heart beating in his throat, as the door closed behind him. Trying to get a handle on his nerves, he took a deep breath.

"Well? What do you want?" she asked from near the door. It was obvious she was trying to put distance between them, he could see it in her rigid demeanour. Turning to face her, he ran a hand through his hair and felt a few tendrils fall from his perfect style.

"I'm... _sorry._ " Even he could hear how forced the words rolled from his lips.

Hermione's face transformed into confusion before it morphed into anger. For a moment, her mouth opened but it snapped shut, and she walked to her desk. Books and pieces of parchment piled into her arms as she grabbed things off it.

Draco stared at her. Was she... ignoring him? "Hey, did you hear me? I said I'm sorry."

Continuing to gather things—some levitated in the air around her—she flicked her wand at them. He swore he could see fiend-fire raging behind her eyes as she snatched her inkwell.

Rage simmered in Draco's blood; he did not enjoy being ignored. When he stepped closer to her, she whipped out her wand and pointed it threateningly in his face.

"What're you gonna do, Granger? You already jinxed and cursed me, haven't you had enough?"

She dropped her wand slightly with a wavering resolve and that was all Draco needed. In a short stride towards her, he snatched the wand from her grasp. His hand reached up to cup her face and he placed his thumb over her lips, silencing her cries of protest. Setting her wand on her desk, he used his other hand to grab the stacks of papers in her arms, setting those alongside the wand.

Hermione's arms hung limp at her side, and she stared at him with large, apprehensive eyes. Draco brought his free hand to her waist, and pulled her close, tucking her body flush to his. Craning his neck down to look her squarely in the eyes, his other hand moved back to tangle in her curls, and tilted her head up.

"You and I need to talk—yes?" His nervousness disappeared with his anger, and all that was left was insatiable lust at feeling their bodies pressed together.

Trembling she nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

"I would prefer your words, Hermione. We need to talk, yes?"

"Y-yes." she stuttered, and Draco could feel himself harden at that one little word.

"You sent Potter a howler earlier today, correct?"

Hermione nodded again and he gave her a pointed look. She pressed her lips together but replied, "Yes."

"Because you're mad at me?"

Hermione huffed. "Yes!"

Draco wanted to laugh at her obvious frustration. He held back, though, it didn't stop his lips from curling into a smirk. Her eyes told him she took this as him making fun of her feelings and put her hands on his chest to push him away. He held on tight, using the hand that had been on her waist to circle her back and keep her against him.

"Why are you mad at me, Hermione?"

Her hands stilled on his chest and she looked down where they touched him. "I just—" The silence hung heavy in the room.

"How many times must I apologize? Do you want me on my knees for you?" Draco's frustration climbed, and he growled out the words.

"No, I just-"

"Yes, I pressed you up against a door and told you I wanted to fuck you. I'm sorry I asked Potter for help. But, don't you understand how mental you're driving me?!" He let go of her curls and reached both arms up to grip her shoulders, the movement forced her to look at him.

"—It just feels wrong!" She shouted, her resolve cracked. "I'm not supposed to like you! You were a—"

"What? A big bad Death Eater?" Draco sneered. "Is that all you think of when you look at me? Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater?"

Hermione's expression turned dejected, and she looked up with sad eyes. "No, Draco—no. I'm sorry that's not—"

Draco felt his stomach turn sour, and dropped his hands from her shoulders. Pulling up to his full height he whispered, "I'm sorry for everything, Hermione. I'm sorry for the side I was forced to choose in the War. I'm sorry for the shit I put you through in school, but that's not who I am anymore," His voice small when doubts fractured his mind, and he realized she would never accept him. "At least, I hope not."

He turned but a hand on his arm stopped him. "Draco, wait. Please, that's not what I meant!"

His anger threatened to overflow, he needed to get out before he said—or did— something he'd regret. He tugged his arm, but she held firm.

Draco whirled and bent down to level a glare at her. "Does the idea of being with me revolt you, Hermione? Will letting me fuck you, sully your perfect goody-two-shoes Gryffindor reputation?"

Hermione opened and closed naked lips, trying to formulate a response to his lewd words. Draco watched them open for the fourth time and he surged forward to capture them with his own. He didn't care if she'd be mad at him for it—consequences be damned, he wanted her.

She squeaked in surprise as his lips devoured hers and Draco wrapped his arms around her small frame. He walked them back until she was pressed against the stone wall. Hermione breathed in shock as she made contact with the cold surface, her lips parted and Draco took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Slipping in his tongue, she moaned beneath him as it caressed her own. His hand gripped her soft curls and pressed her mouth firmer against his.

His other hand grabbed her waist, giving it a soft squeeze as he ground his hard length against her. She moaned, and he drank the sound like he was dying of thirst and her moans were the only thing that could quench it. Draco trailed the hand from her waist higher to cup her breast, damning her clothes for the umpteenth time as they kept him from what he wanted.

Hermione pulled from the kiss, tilted her head, and moaned into the room as he squeezed. Draco trailed hot kisses down her exposed neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Draco... Please."

Biting back a moan at the sound of his name being whimpered from her lips, he repeated the same command from last night. "Tell me to stop."

Trailing his fingers to circle around and cup her arse, he squeezed a little harder than he meant to in his lust-filled excitement. Hermione moaned into his ear, which spurred Draco on, and nipped his teeth on her neck, hoping it would mark her skin.

"Please..." she whimpered beneath him, her hands fisted his robes and her legs shifted to rub against him.

Draco trailed his mouth up to her ear. "Are you begging me to fuck you against the wall, Hermione? Because if you're asking me to stop, you know what you need to say." Hot air caressed her earlobe, and he nibbed it, eliciting a breathless moan.

"I c-can't—"

Draco let go of the lobe to look at her face. Her eyes were hazy with want, her skin flushed. Bruised lips pouted as she looked up at him, he held back the urge to lean forward and take it between his teeth.

"Tell me to stop, Hermione or I might very well take you against this wall."

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Draco watched as she bit down on her lip in thought, and he tried not to be jealous her teeth got to do what he wanted.

"Stop."

Draco froze. Truthfully, he hadn't expected her to say it, and the unexpected word stung like poison. As much as it pained him to, he disentangled himself from her and put an arms breadth between them. Hermione leant against the wall, watching him with an odd expression. Mussed hair stuck up wildly around her, and Draco could spy a small love-bite at the base of her neck.

She looked soundly ravished, and Draco supposed she had been. Until the word 'stop' doused over him like a bucket of ice-water.

Hermione opened her mouth, but a knock at the door had them whirling toward it. Standing straight, she adjusted her dress and tried to shove her curls into a somewhat controlled mess.

Draco smoothed the front of his robes and pushed his hair back as she approached the door. A second knock sounded and when she opened it, he was surprised to see Flitwick standing on the other side holding a plate of food.

"Ah. Hello, Hermione. I just noticed you were absent from dinner so I brought you- Oh! Draco, hello." Flitwick nodded in greeting as Draco moved to the door.

Draco's gaze flicked to Hermione, who was still trying to smooth her hair. "Flitwick. I was just leaving." He tilted his head to Hermione, a nauseous feeling spreading through his stomach as she kept her gaze to the floor.

He truly hadn't meant for any of that to happen. The only thing he wanted to do was apologize but damn him, and his lack of control. He desired Hermione, and if that kiss had been any indicator, she had to as well—it had been explosive.

He knew his dark past was keeping her from acting on it. What would her friends and family think if she suddenly totted him on her arm?

Hermione—the Golden Girl—could have anyone she wanted. Of course, she'd never pick him.

He walked no more than five paces from her office when he heard her call out to him.

"This isn't over, Malfoy!" Her voice sounded somewhat laced with desire, and he looked over his shoulder at her. Hermione's cheeks dusted pink, yet her eyes carried a familiar look of determination. His heart pummelled in his chest, and the nauseous feeling disappeared.

Draco smirked, "No, it isn't."


	8. A deliciously devilish idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love to Mrs_Poncey & FaeOrabel! You guys are the best.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/49631913367/in/dateposted-public/)

Chapter Eight: A deliciously devilish idea

Draco frowned as he watched the students swarm inside Honeydukes. They were like moths to a flame; he wondered briefly how rich the owner was from lining their pockets with children's money. Though, he supposed the shop owner made as much money from him since Draco had a rather hardy sweet tooth. That was one of the few things that had carried with him through adolescence, and his mother, who sent him sweets nearly every day as a child, only made it worse.

A few students said hello to him as they passed before joining their peers inside the shop. Draco sighed, he hated when he had to chaperone the Hogsmeade weekends. It was a waste of a day, and he felt like a glorified babysitter; he couldn't do anything except watch a bunch of teenagers spend their money.

He pulled his coat tighter around him and took out his wand to cast a warming charm. December had descended upon them quickly and with it brought a frigid chill and heaps of snow; exactly what he preferred. It had only been little more than a week since he had confronted Hermione in her office, and they had yet to get the chance to speak again. With the Christmas season fast approaching, deadlines and exams ate up most of their time. But he was happy that she had at least stopped avoiding him, though it had turned somewhat awkward between them. There was an unresolved air of want—she knew his feelings towards her, but her's were still a mystery.

Draco promised to himself that he was done chasing Hermione. He had finally brewed a large batch of Sleeping Draught and was no longer dreaming of her. His mornings were peaceful again and it had put his mind back to rights. Hermione could come to him if she wanted, but he would no longer seek her out.

"Hello, Draco!" Flitwick called as he made his way towards him through the snowy path.

Draco nodded to the half-goblin in greeting. "Flitwick. Off to the Three Broomsticks to see Rosmerta?"

He could see the already-reddened cheeks of the short man turn a brighter shade at the insinuation. "Well, only for a drink! Her butterbeer is the best, you know."

He fiddled nervously with his cloak, and Draco smirked at his obvious embarrassment. He discovered last year that Flitwick harboured a crush on the barkeep and Draco liked to remind him of it now and then.

Flitwick adjusted the buttons of his suit and looked up at Draco with a stern gaze. "Smile all you like, Mr Malfoy but at least I don't upset women."

Draco's smirk instantly dropped from his face and Flitwick crossed his arms haughtily, a grin spreading across his features. "That's right. I'm a Ravenclaw through and through, Draco." He tapped the side of his thinly framed spectacles. "Observance is one of our key traits. You don't think I noticed how upset Hermione was when I brought her dinner last week? Or how you two refuse to make eye-contact since?" He gave Draco a glare. "What was it you were speaking of before I interrupted?"

Draco could feel his cheeks heating and his mind whirled as he tried to push away the thoughts of what he had said to her. Flitwick would surely hold it over his head for the rest of his career if he knew that Draco fancied her.

He settled for a half-truth. "I was... apologising."

"Apologising?"

"For... you know. Everything." Draco tried to be vague for two reasons. One, there were too many young ears here to say he had been atoning for being a Death Eater. He had already squashed enough rumours as an apprentice. Two, he couldn't very well tell Flitwick he had been apologising for telling Hermione he wanted to _fuck her._

Flitwick looked suddenly very uncomfortable. The War was one of the few subjects he did not enjoy discussing. "Ah, right... Well I-I uh—"

"Enjoy your butterbeer, Professor Flitwick."

The short man sighed in relief at the out Draco gave him. He took it—said goodbye, and scurried off to the Three Broomsticks.

Draco resumed the frown he had before Flitwick greeted him. His mood soured further after speaking with the Charms professor. Not because of what he had said, no. It was because Flitwick reminded him of that night, of what he had said to Hermione, their kiss, and everything in between. He had tried his best to keep it from his thoughts this past week, but now it was at the forefront of his mind.

Various images swam through his memory: her heart-shaped lips, swollen and red from their kiss. The love-bite that had marked her skin, he was sure needed bruise-removal paste to get rid of. How utterly wild and divine her curls had looked from his fingers being tangled in them.

Draco's stomach flipped while he thought of her, and when he spied a student lift a box of sugar quills through the window of Honeydukes, an idea popped into his mind. It would break the promise he had made to himself not to chase Hermione, but it was too much of a deliciously devilish idea to pass up.

He waited patiently outside until the shop had cleared enough for him to venture in without being suffocated. Once through the doors, he made his way directly to the sugar quills and picked up a small box of them. A smirk spread across his face while he thought of his plan.

Oh, he was going to have fun with this.

He grabbed a box of chocolate wands, his personal favourite, as he headed to the counter to purchase his items. Draco nodded in greeting to the worker and a few of the students milling about, paid for his items, and left the stifling shop as it filled again.

The plan would need to wait for a few days until he could catch her totally unaware, but Draco didn't mind. He would wait with all the patience he could muster; it would give him just enough time to think of the perfect thing to say.

* * *

"Now, I know we're coming up on holiday and everyone is excited but I don't think that's cause to charm someone's hair green, is it?"

"No, Sir..." mumbled Georgia Toogood, that first-year Slytherin he knew would be trouble. It seemed she had developed quite the rivalry with Maxwell Zebley, a Gryffindor first-year. This was not the first time Draco had to keep her after class to scold her for terrorising that poor boy and it wasn't even Christmas yet.

"You know I don't tolerate malicious behaviour. Was this unprovoked?" Draco asked her.

Georgia's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "No! That's to say, no Sir. He was making fun of me for..."

"For what, Miss Toogood?"

The curly-haired blonde looked to the ground with reddened cheeks and mumbled out the rest of her explanation. "Someone told him I like Summer... He calls me a lot of names."

Oh. Well. That changed things.

Draco stared at the first-year Slytherin as he tried to think of something to say. Not that he felt uncomfortable by the confession, his best friend was gay for Merlin's sake. But, he never envisioned himself having _this_ talk with a student.

"Well..." he scratched the back of his neck. "Okay. Well, that's okay. You can like Summer, that's perfectly normal. Just... next time come to me first, okay? You know I'd much rather take points from Gryffindor."

He gave her a smirk, and she gave him a small smile in return.

"So, I'll still have to take 10 points from Slytherin for that stunt you pulled, alright? And if you continue to harass Mr Zebley I'll have to add detention to that list. Are we understood?"

Georgia nodded in solemn agreement, and Draco sighed. He hated having to discipline his students, it always made him feel guilty. They were just children, after all, and most of the younger ones knew nothing of what Hogwarts had been like when Draco was a student. It had tamed considerably since after the war.

"Tell me next time he says anything _before_ you decide to enact revenge. Or I might have to pair you up with Summer for the rest of the year..." He smirked as her face turned three shades of scarlet. "You can go now."

He chuckled to himself as she nearly ran out of the room, embarrassment clear across her features. Punishment was not something he enjoyed, but he _did_ get a kick out of embarrassing them every once in a while.

He turned back to the papers at his desk as he prepared himself for his free period. Draco only got half-way through the fourth-years reports when the sound of tapping echoed in the empty hall. The Potion's classroom door was left open, and he glanced at it to find Hermione standing in the doorway. Her hair started to come loose from the bun, and he could see her wand tangled in the curls.

Chest heaving, she strode towards him with fire in her eyes. Those white leather pumps he had taken from her all those weeks ago clicked loudly on the stone as she approached, and her teacher's robes billowed around her like a black cloud. Merlin, did she look good in black. It was unfair, really; he was supposed to be the one dominating the dark wardrobe market but she made it look so effortless.

"What are you trying to pull, Malfoy?" She spat the words at him like a bad taste in her mouth.

Draco couldn't help but smirk at her tone.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Hermione." He gave her as innocent a look as he could muster, though the smirk still held on his face.

"So you have no idea how these—" she dropped a box of sugar quills on top of the report he was grading, "ended up on my desk in the middle of a lecture?"

"Oh how nice, those are your favourite, aren't they?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed so much it almost looked like she had closed them. "Did you happen to notice the note attached to them?"

Draco looked back down at the box with feigned curiosity. Of course, he knew there was a note there, but he picked it up off the top of the package and read it, trying to keep himself from laughing at her anger.

He debated reading it aloud but knew the instant the words he wrote left his lips she'd hex him to the New Year. So instead, he quickly read over his handiwork silently.

_My sweet Hermione,_

_I found myself wandering Hogsmeade and happened upon Honeydukes. As I stood outside, I noticed someone pick up a sugar quill and instantly thought of you._

_I'd love to watch your lips close over the candied feather of one of them. What I wouldn't give to drag it all over your body and lick the sugar off with my tongue. Though I'm sure your body doesn't need any extra sweetness, you probably taste divine._

_I hope you enjoy these._

_Your Secret Admirer_

He couldn't help himself; he let out a soft chuckle at his note.

Hermione turned livid.

"Do you have _any_ idea how embarrassing this was?!" She nearly screamed at him. "It was delivered in the middle of a lecture! I had to read this—" she snatched the note from his hands and waved it in his face, "In front of thirty fifteen-year-olds!"

Draco held his hands up in defence, "Honestly, Granger. I have no idea what you're talking about, I didn't send this."

Hermione crumpled the note in her hand and placed the other on his desk as she leant close to his face. Draco couldn't help but glance at her ruby red lips as they neared him. He thought about closing the distance to steal a kiss, but before he could, Hermione gritted her teeth and muttered a sentence that had his stomach flipping in trepidation.

"Two can play at this game."

Then she left in a breeze of honeysuckle and the fading sound of tapping heels on cobblestone.

Draco stared wide-eyed at the open door, unsure of what he had got himself into.

* * *

It had snowed so much in the week leading up to the start of the holiday even Hagrid had trouble walking through it. Draco stood at the open door of the Entrance Hall, watching as the students walked through the path that had been painstakingly shovelled by Filch and left to go to the train station to head home for the holiday.

Christmas time always seemed to leave Draco with a funny feeling. It was never a warm time in his household. Every occasion had always been a stiff affair—but still, his only remaining family was his mother, and he couldn't see her. The only correspondence they had over the years were a few letters and gifts on Christmas and birthdays.

Most of the faculty had things to do on Christmas. Neville and Susan would leave to see their families for the day, and Draco was sure Hermione would do the same.

With nothing else to do and hours before dinnertime, he headed back to the Dungeons to grade papers. A familiar scent wafted through the air, something he recognised but couldn't quite place. It was floral and sweet, and he followed the trail straight into the Potions classroom. Was someone brewing something?

Draco stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in his room. Hermione sat on his desk, her legs crossed and those beautiful tall red heels bouncing slightly as she bobbed her leg rhythmically. Black sheer stockings peeked out from underneath the teachers' robes that had bunched slightly around her thighs.

With crossed arms, Hermione faced him, an air of determination set on her face. Her wand was tucked into the bun on her head—and when she pulled it free, the curls tumbled down her back. The door shut behind him as she flicked her wand silently, and the bolt-lock slid into place.

Caught completely off-guard, Draco tried to mask the emotion on his face. He remembered the promise Hermione made last week after having received that box of sugar quills. Everyday Draco had woken with frayed nerves, waiting for her revenge.

It seemed today was that day.

In an attempt to appear nonchalant, Draco picked a piece of invisible lint of his robes. "Something I can help you with, Granger?"

"There is, in fact."

Before Draco could look up to see what she was doing, she unbuttoned the front of her robes. It revealed a mouth-watering, white silk nightdress draped over her body, the fabric left very little to the imagination. Her generous breasts pressed against the top and her nipples poked through the fabric, hardened against the cold air of the Dungeon. The end barely covered her panties, which matched the edge of the black lace lined dress. Those damned stockings stopped just above her knee, leaving her creamy thighs exposed.

Draco blinked, and his mouth popped open in defiance.

_What the fuck is going on._

"Let's finish that conversation from last week, hm?" Hermione fiddled with her wand, tapping the end on her thigh. She appeared non-pulsed, nonchalant as if this was a normal conversation, as though only wearing a scrap of cloth was a completely common occurrence.

Draco stared, wide-eyed, and realising his mouth was still hanging open ungentlemanly, he snapped it shut. He nodded once, not trusting his words. He was sure his voice would crack like a prepubescent boy if he attempted to speak.

"Would you like to sit, Professor?" Hermione flicked her wand at the chair only a few feet in front of her, and it jolted back from the desk. With an arched brow, she inclined her head to it, an amused expression across her face. Draco's legs carried him forward before he could think about it. His head was buzzing slightly at the sight of the witch in front of him—curls a mess, scantily clad and Merlin. She was wearing this for _him._

"Now," she continued once Draco slid onto the chair. "Last week, you sprung a conversation on me I didn't expect to have. You kissed me quite suddenly without allowing me to explain myself. So, you will sit there and _listen,_ understood?"

Again, Draco nodded, for once at a complete loss for words. Her authoritative voice, and her dress, did nothing to help his head clear. He was only glad his loose teacher's robes hid what would have been an obvious boner in his trousers.

_I swear this witch could make me cum without ever touching me._

"You accused me of not... of not wanting you because you were a Death Eater." A light blush crept up her neck and settled over her cheeks. She was obviously uncomfortable speaking so openly about her feelings for him. "That is part of the truth, but not all of it. While I don't blame you for the part you played in the War, you _were_ a bully in school and a Pureblood prince."

Draco made to speak, but Hermione cut him off.

"I'm not done." He snapped his mouth shut, and she resumed. "I'm a mudblood to you, Draco. Do you expect me to believe that you suddenly fancy me? That you've just given up all of your previous beliefs?"

"Yes." Draco cut in before she could continue. Shocked, she sat up a little straighter, and Draco couldn't stop his gaze from jumping down for a moment to her breasts as they stuck out further.

"I know I was a complete ass to you in school, Hermione. I know I said some horrible things to you and your friends. I didn't plan on being attracted to you, but you make it so bloody hard not to be."

At this, he stood and slowly approached like he was walking toward a nervous deer. Only an arms' length away, he stopped and looked down at her. "We became friends, and then something changed and when Harry told me you liked me, too..." Her gaze darkened a little at the reminder of Harry's betrayal. "I want you, Hermione. If you don't want me, tell me now. I'll stop pursuing you. I—I know I don't deserve you, but I could make you so happy if you'd let me."

At some point, Draco had walked a little closer and the fronts of Hermione's crossed knees brushed his thighs. She continued to fiddle with her wand in her hand and chewed on her bottom lip while she thought. Their eyes never left each other, and all Draco wanted to do was close the distance and kiss her.

"I want you." She whispered.

Draco stared at her for a breath of a second before surging forward to capture her lips. Her wand clattered to the floor as she dropped it to wrap her arms around his waist. Draco cupped her face, kissing her slow and gentle. Their lips fit together so perfectly, and Draco tried to pour everything he was feeling into it.

Hermione sighed against his lips, and he crept a hand to the back of her neck, tilting her head back slightly to deepen the kiss. Her mouth opened willingly and their kiss instantly turned from sweet and chaste to a clash of tongue and teeth. Without realising, Hermione had opened her legs, and Draco stepped between them. Her core pressed against the bottom of his thigh and— _fuck,_ it was hot. Her scent of honeysuckle and vanilla surrounded him, and all he wanted was to bury himself inside her; his cock, his finger, even his face. _Something._

Trailing the hand that still cupped her cheek down her body, he placed it at the small of her back to press her closer. Another moan escaped her mouth when Draco took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently. He moaned in return when her breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

They pulled apart for a moment to catch their breath, but Draco wasted no time before he leant forward to devour her throat. He placed the hand that had been on the back of her neck firmly on the desk beside her as he trailed hot kisses up and down her skin. Stopping at random points to leave marks, he hoped it was covered in his love bites for the holiday.

Hermione's hands tightened on his teacher's robes, and she used it to pull him more firmly to her.

"You have no idea how much I want you, Hermione," Draco said between kisses. After leaving what could have been a tenth mark on her neck, he trailed his lips back up to hers and kissed her soundly. The silk fabric of her nightdress bunched in his hand on her back, and he pulled away to look down at it. If he could've got any harder than he already was at the sight, his cock would have burst the seam of his trousers.

The dress had shifted, and one of her breasts almost exposed, the bottom pulled up to her hips and her black lace panties pressed against his thigh were on full display. Draco moved his hand from her back and trailed it around her front, gently rubbing his thumb on the underside of her breast.

"Did you have a plan to go along with why you're wearing this?" He looked back up to her flushed face with a smirk.

Hermione's throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously, and she glanced down to her dress with a small smile. "Well, originally I was going to show this off and deny you but well... That didn't quite work out."

Draco chuckled and placed a finger under her chin to lift her face. "No, I daresay it didn't."

Her eyes searched his, a frown turning her lips. "I'm sorry too, Draco. For hexing you, and the slap and being so—so uncertain."

Placing both of his hands on her hips to shift her forward, Draco pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and let out a dramatic sigh. "It's not your fault, I'm an enigma."

Hermione swatted at his chest and let out a small laugh. The sound made Draco's heart stutter in his chest. If he could only hear one sound for the rest of his life it would be her laugh. The need to kiss her again overcame him, and he cupped her face with one hand and kept hold of her hip with the other. Leaning down, he captured her lips in a searing kiss that made Hermione moan low in her throat.

She placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed back. Draco pulled from the kiss reluctantly and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Draco, hold on. I have—I'm not..." She chewed on her bottom lip and glanced at the floor. "What are we doing?"

Draco pulled back slightly to look down at her. "What do you mean?"

"What is this going to turn into? I'm not... I don't want to be another trophy on your mantle."

Right, she still saw him as some kind of sex fiend. Well, he supposed it was his own fault that his schoolmates spread his exploits around the castle like wildfire. But he had never truly thought about what this would turn into. He was bloody attracted to her, that was for sure, but did he want more? More importantly, did _she_ want more?

Hermione must have noticed his hesitation because she shifted back and adjusted her hair and dress. Her obvious pain decided for him instantly.

"Hermione."

She ignored him and continued to fix herself, buttoning up her teacher's robes.

"Hey." Draco placed his hands over hers, stopping her movements. "I've never... I've never _dated_ anyone before." He felt like such an idiot at his confession, but she looked up at him with surprised eyes.

"But what about Pansy, and Daphne?"

With a sigh, he dropped his hands from hers. "Just... trophies on the mantle, as you said. But I don't want you to be one, Hermione. I want more. I don't know what this will turn into, but I _don't_ want it to be a fling."

And he truly meant it. He wanted more from Hermione. More of her, all of her.

She let out a shuddered breath and smiled.

"Plus, I'm pretty sure Potter and Blaise will kick my ass if I hurt you."

The laugh that he was so enraptured with escaped her mouth, and he reached forward to cup her face. He gave her another gentle kiss to her swollen lips that made him want to press her into his desk. But he knew now wasn't the time. Instead, he kissed her slowly and delicately and his stomach fluttered as she arched into it.

He'd wait till she was ready, Draco only hoped she wouldn't make him wait too long.


	9. The Perfect Christmas Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love to Mrs_Poncey and FaeOrabel. Alpha love to WordsmithMusings.

Chapter Nine: The Perfect Christmas Gift

The following three days were pure bliss.

Draco and Hermione spent nearly every minute together. They tried to get some work done but, truth be told, found each other rather distracting. Draco caught Hermione eyeing him more than once while he graded his papers, and he couldn't help but stare at the way the feather of her quill trailed over her beautiful lips.

This current work session lasted all of fifteen minutes before Draco claimed her mouth again, trailing kisses on every bit of skin he could find.

"Draco," Hermione whimpered beneath him while he lavished her neck.

His name on her lips made him want to press her harder into the desk they were both currently sprawled on top of, but he restrained himself. He'd wait to cross that line, even though the tightening of his trousers made it difficult.

A throaty moan left her perfect mouth, echoing against the walls as Draco bit on the sensitive area right at the base of her neck. He discovered that little spot last night in the library; it delighted him to no end to explore her body and find all of the things that made her come alive.

If only she'd let him go further—he'd have her screaming.

"Draco, please. I have a lot of work to do before I leave tomorrow." Hermione rasped, trying to wriggle out of his grasp on her hips.

Draco sighed, kissed her soundly once more for good measure, and stood straight to adjust his shirt that Hermione's eager hands unbuttoned. The way she looked spread out before him, hair a mess and clothing completely askew, made a self-satisfied smirk curl at the corners of his mouth.

The tracing of her tongue along kiss-swollen lips made his cloth-covered cock twitch. She watched—with pink-tinged cheeks, as he righted his clothes, and heaved a breath, straining her breasts tightly against her shirt.

_Fuck._

Mentally reciting the recipe for Draught of the Living Death to calm his raging desire, Draco forced himself to pull away from Hermione and sat in the chair across her desk. Maybe her leaving tomorrow would be a blessing in disguise—his only thought since they finally reconciled was how much he wanted her. This witch was going to make him go insane with lust, he just knew it.

"Right." Hermione cleared her throat while she straightened her clothes. Those scraps of cloth were the reason why Draco was unable to control himself in the first place, and he knew she wore it on purpose. The _drastic_ plunging neckline of her dark green sweater, paired with her skin-tight muggle jeans, and those thigh-high lace-up boots... Draco was done in. It was unfair—she knew exactly what she was doing.

Draco's eyes trailed her fingers as she adjusted her sweater, pulling the neckline back into its place. Though the room was already turned into a sauna from their snogging, he suddenly felt a new surge of heat and he rolled his sleeves up, stopping just below his Dark Mark.

Hermione's gaze burned into his arm; he knew she was curious about what had become of his Mark. He perfected hiding it over the years, whether by glamour or with clothing, but now the intimacy of what they shared threatened to expose it. No one had seen his Mark in almost five years, it made him sick with terror, even if it had faded considerably since. It was a stark reminder of his shameful past, something he would never be able to outrun.

The gut-sinking thought of her seeing it instantly quieted the fire burning through his veins.

Finally tearing her gaze from his arm to sit back in her chair, Hermione set about fixing the papers that became a jumbled mess during their snog-fest. "So," she started, keeping her gaze on anything but him. "What will you be doing for the holiday?"

Draco bit back a laugh at her discomfort. She always acted like this after every kiss; awkward and completely flustered.

"I'll do what I've done for the last three years—celebrate here. It usually involves a large bottle of firewhiskey in my room," he replied and leant back in his seat. It sounded more pathetic than it actually was. Really, he enjoyed Christmas at Hogwarts, but he missed his family. He missed his parents more than he ever thought possible, and the only way to shove those feelings down was to get piss poor plastered.

Finally looking up at him, Hermione frowned. "You don't spend it with Hagrid or any of the other faculty?"

Draco shrugged. "I prefer to spend it alone." That was the truth at least, he just didn't think it fair to have someone take care of him at Christmas. It was time for happiness and all that, not to have to drag around a drunkard. Nor did he want to repeat the heart to heart he had with Hagrid; Salazar save him if that happened with someone else.

"What if... Would you like to come with me to the Burrow?"

Draco blinked. "You have to be joking, Granger. There is no way in seven Hells I'd celebrate Christmas with the Weasleys. I don't even think they'd let me through the door."

"But they like Blaise perfectly fine—"

"Blaise wasn't a Death Eater."

The silence following that statement hung like a thick cloud in the room, tainting the jovial mood. Hermione still looked at him with that infuriating frown, and it started to annoy Draco. He didn't want her pity, he was perfectly happy to spend Christmas alone. He preferred it, actually.

Alright, well, now he was starting to sound a little pathetic.

"Really, Hermione, it's fine. I'll be _fine._ Now," Draco checked his pocket watch. "It's nearly midnight, so I best be off before someone thinks we're up to something."

He gave her a wink and her frown finally turned to a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Always the caring Gryffindor, this one. Draco stood, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and made to head back to his bed-chamber.

"Hold on." Hermione stood and walked towards him before he could open the door. Without even a moment of hesitation, she gripped his face and pulled him down to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

Draco closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of her for a moment before he placed his hand on the small of her back to pull her closer. Her curls were still wildly untamed, and he felt a few strands tickle his face as he tangled his fingers in them to deepen the kiss.

With a sigh, Hermione pulled back and settled on her heels, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Fine, if you want to spend Christmas alone I won't stop you, but you're still getting a gift from me."

It was the worst possible thing she could've said; he hadn't got her anything.

And now he had to.

"Great, can't wait," Draco replied, the words dripping with sarcasm. Internally, his mind whirled—it was only two days to Christmas. How the hell was he supposed to buy her a gift in two days?

Diagon Alley. He'd have to make a special trip and it filled him with dread. Gods, he hated that place—too many eyes following his movements, whispering following every step. It made his skin crawl to even think of it.

Another chaste kiss and Draco bid her goodnight. She'd be gone for two days, and he was surprised to find he was going to miss her.

It was going to be a long holiday.

* * *

Normally, Draco was an impeccable gift giver. Gifts were easy; he'd always been able to tell the best thing to give someone. Blaise and Potter still thanked him constantly for their wedding gift; a holiday home he purchased for them on Ischia Island off the coast of Italy.

He'd already got Neville and Susan their gifts weeks ago: a Herbology journal for Neville and an enchanted tea set for Susan, the woman was oddly obsessed with tea. Even his mother's present—an expensive and beautiful set of sapphire earrings—sat wrapped on the living room table. However, he had no bloody clue what to get for Hermione.

Diagon Alley, so far, proved fruitless. After an uncomfortable stop at Gringotts with the grudge-holding Goblins, he immediately started with Flourish and Blotts. He perused the stacks, but getting Hermione a book to add to her immense collection just seemed... lazy. Then, he wandered into the Magical Menagerie but Hagrid already got her Calliope. Draco looked at the various pets inside but couldn't picture Hermione with any other pet besides a cat, and she certainly didn't need two.

Stepping outside into the frigid air, Draco sighed irritably. This was going to take all bloody day, and he did not have the patience to deal with the packed shops. It was Christmas Eve, weren't people supposed to be done shopping by now? Though, he supposed he didn't have much room to talk.

The stares and whispers started the moment he stepped onto the cobblestone street.

"Look, it's Draco Malfoy..."

"What do you suppose he's doing here? Doesn't he normally hide away in Hogwarts..."

"My Frankie loves him, says he's the best professor, but I don't know, I still don't trust him..."

"Ex-Death Eater, that one. Haven't you heard the stories? Well, let me tell you..."

Draco grit his teeth and pressed through the crowd before he said something he'd regret.

"Draco?" A familiar voice called out to him.

Peering behind him, he discovered Pansy Parkinson, arms full of shopping bags and still looking as radiant as ever. Her short black bob was half-hidden by a very stylish French beret that matched her knee-length pea-coat.

But her shoes were what caught his attention the most.

Black pumps with a silver strap in the shape of a snake curled around her ankle. They were the most gorgeous pair of shoes he had ever seen. They would make the perfect gift for Hermione, and he had to have them.

"Where did you get those shoes?"

Pansy smirked, "Five years since I've last seen you, and that's how you greet an old friend? Not even a hello, how are you?"

"I already know how you are, Pansy, I see the articles in the Prophet. Pureblood princess caught in a back alley with Gawain Robards. How is your dear father coping?" Draco retorted snidely.

Pansy's smirk grew wider at his words. "Probably trashed the entire house when he read it. Though, I haven't spoken to him in years, so I couldn't tell you exactly."

Draco matched her devilish smile. In truth, he did miss Pansy; her friendship had been invaluable to him during his Hogwarts years. She was a steady rock, ready to give a decided opinion on anything troubling him. Then during fifth year, they went further in an attempt to quell the darkness clawing at them from Voldemort. They were each other's firsts; it had been awkward and clumsy, but Draco would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it.

The bliss barely lasted a month.

Someone tipped off their parents of the relationship and any form of friendship broke apart instantly. Pureblood women were supposed to be intact for their husbands, and Draco ruined her. Though Pansy didn't seem to give a damn, her parents still blamed him. The Malfoy's paid dearly for his transgression; Voldemort _Crucio'd_ Draco for the better part of an hour and made his parents watch every minute.

Starting sixth year, Draco vowed never to deal with a pureblood witch again—especially one that was tied to Voldemort. But the part he played, the stress of keeping his family from harm, wore on him. So, he sought comfort in Daphne Greengrass's skirts, and she complied willingly.

Another transgression, and another _Crucio._

"What are you doing here, anyway? Draco Malfoy never comes to Diagon Alley." Pansy wrapped her hand around his arm, pulling him to start walking as the crowd eyed them suspiciously.

"I'm looking for a present for... a friend."

"A friend?"

"Yes, a fucking friend, Pansy." Draco sneered as they walked aimlessly down the street.

"Hmmm." Pansy pursed her lips, the corners tilting up in a mocking smile. "And what, exactly, does this friend like?"

"Why do you care?"

"Oh, because I'm going to help you shop, that's why," Pansy stated matter-of-factly.

Draco stopped walking, and an elderly wizard bumped into his back at the suddenness of it, muttering a swear under his breath as he stepped around him.

"You are _not_ shopping with me. I can handle it on my own." Draco replied, glaring down at the smirking witch.

"Oh come on, Draco. We haven't seen each other in five years, we have a lot of catching up to do."

"No."

Pansy's smile grew wider. "This wouldn't happen to be a gift for a _female_ friend, would it?"

Draco masked his face; he wanted to tell her, he truly missed their friendship, but could he trust her? Pansy had been his friend in school, yes, but that was nearly ten years ago. He didn't know this witch, he didn't know this version of Pansy.

But she knew him, and she saw right through his mask. "Oh, my. Is Draco Malfoy smitten?"

And now he remembered why he hadn't bothered to rekindle his friendship with Pansy. This woman irritated the absolute shit out of him.

"Come on, we're going to my shop and while we walk you are going to tell me more about this witch. Who is she for starters? What does she like?" Pansy yanked on his arm again and Draco reluctantly let himself be led down the walkway.

"I'm not telling you anything about her."

Pansy huffed, "Stop being such a prat, Draco, or I'll have to start guessing. Let's see... no, not her, she's married... Astoria? No, no she's engaged..."

Pansy thought aloud whilst listing off various witches and their current marital status. Draco could feel the vein in his forehead start to throb.

"Oh, what about someone you work with? How scandalous would that be? Susan Bones, maybe? Oh lord, please tell me it's not Granger..." Pansy joked.

Draco tried as hard as he possibly could to steel his emotions but Pansy saw through his mask for a second time.

"Draco! You can't be serious!" Pansy clapped a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth to cover the escaping laughter.

"Shut up!" Draco hissed, lowering his voice so the ears around them couldn't hear. "No one can know, do you understand me?"

Pansy smirked while tapping a shiny black nail on her lips. "You know the drill, Draco; a price for a price. Come to my store and I'll forget just who it is you're buying this gift for."

With an irritated sigh, Draco agreed and the pair continued down the walkway. As they approached, the sign above the black and white striped canopy marked, _Mort ou Mode_ glistened brightly. A large crowd was gathered around her store, and through the throng of people, Draco could spy various mannequins in the window display draped in high French fashion.

"Normally, I only cater to the more... _elite_ of our society, but I put a large selection of items on a one-day-only sale. It's interesting how people forget who owns the store with the promise of a discount." Pansy remarked with a wink as they came upon the backside of the mass.

"It's about as interesting as what you named your store. Death or Fashion—really?" Draco commented.

Pansy shrugged, "It's my motto in life, darling, and from what I've heard through the grapevines, your witch would agree with me."

Draco bristled and stopped himself before he told Pansy off. Her words made him think; was Hermione his witch? They hadn't spoken yet on the subject, aside from him telling her he didn't want her as a trophy. But, what did that make them instead?

"Now, let's get the crowd out of here so I can actually think while I help you."

She flicked her wand at the door and it slammed shut. Cries of protest filled the area as red words scribbled on the glass window in an elegant scrawl, _closed for a private appointment_. A feline smile graced the former Slytherins lips as the people dispersed. Once everyone left the storefront, Pansy reopened the door and called out to a nearby employee as they entered.

"The store is closed for a private appointment. Please tell the customers in here to finish their shopping, and you and Ann can take your lunch breaks once they all leave."

The young girl readily agreed and scampered off to inform her coworker.

"So," Pansy said as she led them towards a pair of large french settees in the back of the room. "What does Granger like? As far as I remember, books and following around Weasel and Potty like a lost puppy, but apparently that's changed."

Draco scowled and she answered with a grin. "What about shoes? You asked me where I got mine earlier and I'm well-aware of what Granger used to wear around the Ministry, the little minx."

Now that they were sitting, Draco was able to thoroughly inspect the heels Pansy wore. The black leather-hide of the shoes shone with the soft light of the store and he could spy twin emeralds as the snake's eyes.

"They aren't dragon-hide, are they?" Draco may enjoy the quality fabric but he knew for a fact if he purchased Hermione shoes made from dragon-hide she'd throw them at his face. And his face was much too pretty to have a shoe imprint on it.

"Salazar, no. I'm still a vegetarian, Draco. I don't eat meat, and my clothes certainly do not use any animal products."

Draco pondered for a moment before nodding. "Fine. I want a pair of heels, the best ones you have."

Pansy grinned and flicked her wand at a pair on the shelf. They floated into Draco's eyesight for him to inspect; peep-toe pumps in white patent faux leather, as Pansy made sure to inform him, with a sparkling crystal ankle strap. They were pretty, but they didn't evoke anything special.

"Not quite what I'm looking for." Draco frowned and the heels whisked back to the shelf. Pansy showed him a few more pairs but nothing called to him. They were all exquisite, to be sure, but they weren't anything compared to what Pansy had on her feet.

"Do you have anything similar to what you're wearing?"

Pansy glanced down to her snake adorned heels, the silver metal glinting as she turned her foot. "These? No, they're one-of-a-kind, but I do have something similar... Hold on."

She stood and left to a backroom where Draco could hear the sounds of boxes being shuffled about. Returning a few minutes later, Pansy held a black velvet box and she handed it to Draco.

"Take a look. They're the prototypes to these, I didn't care for the colour on me."

Draco cracked the lid open and his breath caught in his throat.

Inside lay the perfect pair of heels; they were similar to the ones Pansy wore, but so much better. The dark emerald colour of the shoe contrasted beautifully against the black box. The snake, made of gold instead of silver, was even longer. The tail met the point of the toe and the head curled twice around the ankle, even the eyes were different; Pansy's snake had emeralds, this one had rubies.

They were beautiful, and he needed them. "Charge it to my vault, I'll take them."

Pansy gave him a feline grin. "Perfect. Would you like it gift-wrapped?"

"Yes," Draco said as he reluctantly placed the lid back on the box. "But send it to the Weasley's home. I want her to have them for Christmas."

"Yes, Sir." Pansy mocked and stood to take the box to the front counter.

Draco scowled at her retreating back, but was happy he finally found the perfect gift for Hermione. He only hoped she liked them as much as he did. Merlin, he hoped he could convince her to wear them with nothing else on...

"Draco? Are you coming up front?"

Draco stood quickly, hoping the heat he felt in his cheeks didn't show. Apparently, it did since Pansy's grin widened as she took in his face.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" She asked in all politeness, putting on a sweet shop-girl voice.

Draco grimaced and she laughed.

"I'll have these sent out later today. Your witch will have them bright and early tomorrow morning for Christmas."

Draco gave a curt nod, "Thank you, Pansy. They're perfect."

With one of the only genuine smiles Pansy ever gave, she sent him off with a 'Happy Christmas.' Just as he was about to step out the door, he heard her call to him from behind the counter.

"And you better start writing to me, Professor!"

Draco continued out the door without bothering to turn or acknowledge her request. He had already planned to write to her, anyway.


	10. Happy Christmas, Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AlphaBeta love to my wonderful FaeOrabel! and lots of Alpha love to WordSmithMusings, y'all are seriously the best.
> 
> (also, sidenote everyone. I made an author Facebook, you can find me as Kora Kwidditch and my friend requests are open! You can discover random things there and follow along for story updates/other posted works/daily life randomness <3)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/50186617991/in/dateposted-public/)

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Happy Christmas, Draco**

Draco's Christmas morning started with a throbbing headache. It wasn't entirely his own fault he had one, though. His accomplice, an empty bottle of firewhiskey, sat next to his bed just below where his arm dangled off the edge. With a groan, he sat up and pressed his hand over his eyes to quell the pounding behind them. He would need one hell of an Invigoration Draught to get through the day.

Once the pain subsided enough for him to bear the candlelight of his room, Draco slowly cracked open his eyes and sighed at the sight before him. A small stack of presents sat on the floor next to his bed; a handful of wrapped boxes and a letter from his mother. Deciding to get the pain of his estranged mother over with, he opened her letter first. The parchment was crisp and white, and it was thick with all the missed things she needed to tell him.

Damn the Ministry for barring contact with her. Draco desperately wished he could see her today, but knew the moment anyone found out he went to the Malfoy home in Paris, he would be thrown in a cell in the pits of Azkaban. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he slid out the stack of parchment from the envelope; it was at least ten pages thick, as were all her letters. Draco quickly wiped away the stray tears that threatened to drop, lest they blot the ink, and opened to the first page.

_Draco,_

_Happy Christmas, my love. I hope the current school year has treated you well. I read that Miss Granger joined the ranks as the new Transfiguration Professor, I trust that she isn't making your job too hard, nor you hers. As for me, since my last letter on your birthday, I recently refurbished the downstairs foyer. Oh, I wished you could have seen it, Draco. Your father would have been in such a state..._

An hour later, Draco lay sprawled on his bed, the pages marked with his mother's elegant handwriting lovingly placed on his bedside table as he finished the final few sentences.

_Happy Christmas, Draco. When you see your father today, please give him my best._

_I miss you both so much._

_Love,_

_Mother_

Tears streamed freely from the corners of his eyes as he set the last pages back with the rest, and he hastily wiped them away. Draco blamed the remnants of the alcohol in his system for his overly emotional state. Receiving these letters was nothing new, so why did they pain him more than they had previously? He hoped she liked the pair of sapphire earrings he sent her, though he knew they were nothing in comparison to spending the holidays with her.

Sighing, Draco sat up and grabbed one of the presents. It was a shoddily wrapped box, and the chicken scrawl on the note confirmed that it was from Hagrid. Ripping into the paper with about as much care as the half-giant wrapped it, his breath caught at the item inside.

It was a wooden dragon—an Antipodean Opaleye to be exact—whittled in mid-flight, it's wings outstretched as it soared. Draco held it in his palm to inspect the craftsmanship and jolted in surprise when the dragon sprung to life and jumped from his grasp to fly around the room. It took two laps before it came to rest back in his hand and resumed its rigid demeanour.

Draco couldn't help himself; a broad grin broke over his face.

Carefully setting the statue atop his mother's letter, he pulled another package from the pile; this one from Harry and Blaise. Inside were two bottles of what Draco knew to be _very_ expensive wine. There was also an envelope hidden amongst the wrappings and Draco opened it to discover a letter from Harry.

_The wine was from Blaise, and this is from me._

_Figured you could use a friend._

_Happy Christmas, Harry_

Attached to the note was a voucher for the Magical Menagerie for one pet, sized five pounds or smaller.

Draco chucked it back into the box with a scowl. Leave it to Potter to get him something as useless as this. He certainly did _not_ need a pet; he was perfectly happy without one. There was absolutely no way in hell he wanted the responsibility of caring for something.

The rest of the presents were rational, thankfully. An engraved cauldron stirrer from Neville with the Slytherin crest stamped into the handle, and a matching mortar and pestle from Susan. McGonagall sent him her usual present of his favourite candy, Chocolate Wands, as she did every year.

There was one present left, and Draco had no clue who it was from. It was a large flat box, wrapped in beautiful dark red paper. It almost pained him to rip it, but he did, curiosity getting the better of him. A note sat inside with only a few words.

_Happy Christmas, Draco._

_Love, Pansy_

Draco's stomach instantly dropped. Why did Pansy send him a gift? And what, exactly, could the gift be? With only one way to find out, he lifted the lid, and his heart stopped beating.

They were beautiful—the most beautiful pair of shoes he had ever seen.

And they were for _him._

Dark emerald leather oxfords sat gleaming against the red paper. The black stitching and laces popped against the green fabric, but it was the gold metal snake curled around the shoe that caught Draco's eye.

They perfectly matched the heels he had purchased for Hermione.

Gently picking them up, he traced the snake and the stitching with a delicate touch. They were beautifully crafted, and his exact size. How did Pansy manage to make these in one night?

Oh, he was going to buy that witch whatever the hell she wanted in return.

Emotions from his mother's letter pushed aside from his new shoes, Draco swung out of bed and hurried to get dressed so he could wear them.

Twenty minutes later, after raiding his entire wardrobe for the perfect outfit, Draco sauntered to the Great Hall for Christmas breakfast. He downed an Invigoration Draught on the way, the pounding in his head now but a distant memory. The shoes clipped beautifully against the ground as he walked, and he couldn't stop the shit-eating smirk that graced his face at the sound.

"Morning, Happy Christmas," He greeted various students that sat at their tables, still bleary-eyed as they stared at their food. Draco was always surprised by the number of students that stayed at Hogwarts for the holiday break. The few times he had stayed, aside from the Yule Ball, it was sparse with only a handful of his peers remaining. Now, there were always at least fifty from each house, and it unnerved him—he knew most didn't stay by choice.

"Draco! Happy Christmas," Hagrid greeted from his place at the faculty table. "Got yer gift. Did you make the potion yerself?"

With a self-important smirk, Draco sat in his seat, "Of course I did. And I expect pumpkins twice as large next year. Did you whittle the dragon you gave me?"

They conversed while they ate; Draco explained how he made the Expansion Potion for next year's pumpkins, and Hagrid told him how he carved the dragon and enchanted it.

"'Course, I had someone else do the enchantin'." He said rather loudly to their surrounding co-workers. "Since I can't do magic."

Draco gave him a knowing smile and sat back with tea in hand, greeting the rest of the Professors as they took their seats. McGonagall was the last to enter, and Draco greeted her with a Happy Christmas before downing the contents of his mug and standing. He only had one place to be today and once he got it over with, could spend the rest however he wanted; probably at the end of a full bottle of alcohol.

With a nod to McGonagall and the rest of the staff, he sauntered from the Great Hall and whipped out his wand to Accio his cloak. Once it fastened in place, he cast a warming charm on himself, and various protection spells on his flawless shoes. Though he couldn't feel it on his skin, the chilled air filled his lungs, and his breath came out in small clouded pants as he trudged down to the Apparation point just outside of Hogsmeade.

The village was comfortably silent so early in the morning, though Draco could spy a few silhouettes of people celebrating Christmas through the windows.

Finally reaching the Apparation point, Draco took a steadying breath and pulled out his wand. With a flick, he Apparated just behind the St John Church in the small Muggle village of Colerne. Though Malfoy Manor was located only five miles north, Draco was never allowed to visit here as a child—for obvious reasons.

Only a small dusting of snow covered the surrounding ground, and he glanced around cautiously before making his way to the adjacent graveyard. He hadn't meant to Apparate so far from the entrance, but the first thing that had come to mind when he Disapparated from Hogsmeade was the Christmas Church service. Draco was only glad he hadn't been deposited inside the damned building.

Once through the iron-wrought gates, he headed to the centre of the small graveyard where a monumental statue of an angel stood, her arms spread out in a welcoming gesture. Quickly casting a Notice-Me-Not charm, and with another glance just to double-check no Muggles watched, Draco stepped up to the statue and pulled down on her left arm. The angel began to twist, one of the large stone wings nearly clipping him in the face as he stumbled back from it.

The ground surrounding it gave way to reveal a staircase, and though Draco had been here many times over the years, it still unnerved him to have to go underground. It should be familiar to him, having lived in the Hogwarts dungeons for most of his life, but this was different. This was old and well... made of _dirt._

With a steadying deep breath, he cautiously began his trek down the uneven stairs. Once halfway below, he could feel the shift of magic, almost like an electric current rolling across his skin. It was always a bit overwhelming at first, and after a momentary pause on the spiralled staircase to adjust, Draco continued down.

His foot left the final stone step and met with the soft grass-covered ground as he took in his surroundings. Balls of fae-light floated about, creating a calming glow on the dark dirt dome he was under. The familiar large, twisted yew tree sat dead centre; it's forever-green leaves unnaturally still without a breeze to tousle them. Surrounding it were the graves of his ancestors, some dated back to the Founders Era and even well beyond that. He remembered coming as a boy on various occasions, once asking his father why they weren't buried on the Malfoy grounds.

" _It's bad luck," he had said while standing before Abraxas's grave. "To be buried on your own land."_

Draco's lips pulled into a bittersweet smirk remembering his father's words while he weaved through the ornate, and expensive, tombstones. Coming upon Lucius's grave, the large Malfoy crest carved just at the top of its curve, Draco's stomach dropped as it did every time he saw it.

His father was such a coward, but it didn't hurt any less not to have him here. Even though he would be sitting a life sentence for the things he had done during the War... Draco angrily wiped at the tears that now marked his cheeks.

"You stupid idiot," Draco mumbled to the stone. "I would have fought for you. I would have spent the entire Malfoy fortune to get you out of there."

He crouched down, eye level with the engraved words of _Lucius Abraxas Malfoy - January 10 1954—June 19 1998._

Draco pulled out his wand and conjured a small bouquet, placing the flowers gently against the stone. His fingers brushed over the saying he had etched into it; _And in the end, he is missed. Devoted husband, loving father. Ad meliora._

"Towards better things," Draco repeated the Latin phrase. Standing to walk towards the exit, Draco took one final fleeting glance to where his father was buried and remembered his mother's letter. "Mother says hello."

The words made his chest clench; he wasn't sure why this year affected him so, he usually would be able to control himself and his emotions. It had to be because of Granger—something was changing in him with his feelings for her.

He couldn't decide if he liked it.

Thoughts turning to his bushy-haired witch, Draco ascended the Malfoy graveyard, for once eager to be back above ground. As he reached the top few stairs, he could hear voices in the distance. He peered around the angel statue and discovered the Christmas service had begun. Muggles wearing their Sunday best under thick winter coats filed into the old building, greeting a man dressed in white robes at the door. Draco stood and watched the happy families, his breath coming out in small puffs of steam.

A clawing feeling began in his chest at the sight of children with their parents, peels of laughter floating through the chilled air. A woman with dark brown curls stood at the end of the line, and Draco stepped from around the statue to see her better. The angel began to twist, closing the entrance, but Draco barely noticed over the crunch of the snow under his boots. The line dwindled as he approached the Church, and before he realised, his legs had carried him to the end of it, only one person left before the man in the white robes greeted him.

"Hello, there." The elderly man welcomed him with a wide smile. "Finally joining the services this year, eh?"

Draco blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Peering down his spectacles, the man gave Draco a knowing look. "You return here every Christmas like clockwork. I see a heaviness in your shoulders, a weariness. You're much too young to carry all this pain, and yet I can't help but think that despite it all, you're a fighter—stronger than you know. Tell me, who is it you come to see in the Church's cemetery?"

"My father." The answer tumbled out of Draco's mouth before he could think. The man was so inviting with his warm demeanour, yet something twinkled in his eyes. It reminded him heavily of Dumbledore; approachable, but all-knowing.

"Ah, the loss of a father can weigh heavily, yes. You're much too young to have lost such a loved one."

Loved? Draco wasn't sure if he knew the meaning of the word. Had he loved his father?

The question made a lump form in his throat.

"I can see the pain is still fresh." The man said, taking in Draco's face. "Perhaps you'd like to come inside? We want nothing from you, but you are welcome. Maybe you'll find respite, even if just for a moment. You never know what path will lead you towards better things."

Draco tried to swallow the lump in his throat and could feel his palms begin to sweat.

"Reverend Morris."

They both turned to a teenage boy, dressed in a similarly draped white robe, though nowhere near as ornate.

"Reverend, the sermon should start soon..."

"Ah, quite right you are, Jeremy, thank you." The man Draco now knew as Reverend Morris, though he wasn't quite sure what a Reverend was, turned back to him. "Come inside. Share your weight with others; let us help you heal."

Draco's heart hammered in his chest, the words echoing in his brain, and before he realised it, he had taken a few steps towards the door. Through the open threshold, he could spy at least a hundred Muggles, all sitting in the lined wooden benches as they waited for whatever this was to begin. Draco could feel his throat dry at the thought of being around so many of them. Would they be able to see his blackened soul? Would they know the things he'd done?

The dark thoughts caused him to retreat a step, and the Reverend looked at him with a quirked brow.

"Not just yet, eh? Quite alright, my boy. Maybe another day." The man turned, his long white robes billowing out behind him as he retreated inside the building. The boy followed just after, giving Draco a backward glance before shutting the large doors behind them.

Left alone in the icy snow, Draco felt...odd. His heart felt lighter than it ever had, thoughts swimming with all of the Reverend's words. Maybe, when he returned next Christmas, he'd attend.

His world seemed brighter at the thought as he Apparated away.

* * *

The trek back from Hogsmeade didn't seem quite as far as it had earlier. On the contrary, Draco relished in the feel of the chilled winter breeze on his skin as he walked. Today would be the perfect day for a flight, and he quickened his pace back to the school to retrieve his broom.

The Great Hall was still lined with students, some having just roused from sleep to eat a late breakfast, while others showed off their presents to their friends. Draco avoided them all, ducking passed the Hall, right down the Dungeon stairs. After a quick check-in to make sure his classroom was still locked against rambunctious children that enjoyed creating foul potions, he went to his rooms and grabbed his broom. Though it pained him, he swapped out his beautiful oxfords for a pair of his now mundane-looking leather boots. He set his shoes on his trunk, the dark green of the fabric glinting beautifully against the lights that burned in the wall sconces.

With a small smile and a short backward glance, Draco left them, heading out towards the Lake for a midday flight. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, whispering another warming spell into the fabric.

As he approached the glistening water, he frowned to find a lone figure sitting beneath the tree, staring into the murky depths. Nearing closer, Draco's frown deepened to discover who it was.

"McAdams?"

The Gryffindor turned from where he sat in the snow, shock on his face to see Draco. He said nothing, but regarded Draco with a pinched expression. Draco knew he wasn't a favourite of the Gryffindor, especially after that last incident with the cauldron explosion. But he was still a student, and Draco had a responsibility as the boy's professor to figure out why he was out here alone.

"Where's Mr Kane? You two are rarely without each other."

McAdams ignored Draco, moving his glare back out to the Lake. Draco gripped the handle of his broom tighter as he walked closer, now only a step away from the boy's robes.

"Did something happen—"

"Cass is at his gran's house," McAdams mumbled and began to pick at the threads of his cloak. "For hols."

"Oh," Draco replied stupidly. Of course, Kane still had family, while McAdams...

Maybe it was the run-in with the Reverend from earlier, but Draco felt a sudden tightening in his chest for the boy. With an internal sigh, he sat down next to him, tucking his broom carefully in the crook of his elbow.

"And you didn't want to go with him?" Draco asked awkwardly. He never had to have this type of conversation with a student before; it felt notably foreign and odd. But he had a duty to ensure the well-being of his students, even if they _were_ troublemakers.

McAdams continued to mess with the threads of his cloak, and Draco could see the internal battle he was having with himself. It was an uncomfortable conversation to have, especially with a professor you didn't like.

Seeming to come to a resolution, McAdams replied, "His gran's a pureblood... she doesn't like me. Only puts up with Cass because he's a blood relative, but I'm just a nobody half-blood orphan."

Draco sighed outwardly this time, his breath leaving his nose in a puff of steam. He fixed his gaze on the frozen surface of the Lake, watching the sun glint off the ice as he tried to piece his next words together. Even fighting a fucking war over blood prejudice couldn't kill it.

"You are more than your blood."

He saw McAdams look at him fully from the corner of his eye, his hands stilling their ministrations of ripping out the thread of his cloak.

"And Kane's grandmother sounds like a frightful old..." he glanced around to make sure there weren't any prying ears, "bitch."

A guffaw of a laugh left McAdams mouth, his lips curled up in a shocked smile at a professor swearing. Draco felt a small sense of pride swell in his chest to know he was able to make McAdams, of all people, laugh. Glancing to his broom, he tightened his hand around the handle before making a decision.

"Here." He stood and offered the boy the Firebolt, the dark wood slightly wet from the snow. "I... I want you to have this."

"What?" McAdams stood too, his eyes staring at the broom in awe. "Your Firebolt, Professor?"

"Happy Christmas."

"But, Sir, I couldn't—"

"It's just a Firebolt," Draco lied, his heart sinking and swelling at the same time. "I can buy a dozen more, I _am_ a Malfoy, remember?"

McAdams reached out, his hand wrapping around the handle and Draco reluctantly let go of one of his most prized possessions. It had been a spur of the moment thing to offer this boy his Firebolt, but seeing the look on his face was worth it.

Tears pricked the corners of McAdams's eyes as he inspected the broom, and his voice came out soft and mumbled. "Professor, I can't..."

"Happy Christmas," Draco repeated, taking a few steps back from his student. "Just don't break it, alright?" He turned and retreated inside the castle, and once he passed the threshold of the stone, looked back to find McAdams already soaring over the Lake.

Why he had decided to give this boy one of the few gifts remaining from his father, he couldn't say. Maybe as some sort of payment for his crimes in the War? Maybe to ease the burden of his soul, even just a little? Whatever it was, one thing was for certain.

Draco needed a fucking nap.

* * *

Draco frowned into his goblet, the wine sitting bitterly on his tongue. The Christmas Feast raged on in front of him from the House tables, and he watched with the other professors at the students' outbursts. Draco spied McAdams at the Gryffindor table, jabbering his head off, the Firebolt resting against the bench behind him.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

Draco turned with a jolt to find Hermione behind him, a dark burgundy blouse hanging loose on her figure. His gaze travelled down her black trouser clad legs to discover her wearing the shoes he gifted to her.

And fuck did they look _fantastic._

He cleared his throat before speaking, sure that if he hadn't, his voice would have left his lips in a squeak. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

Her red-painted lips curled in a small smile as she took the chair Neville typically occupied, the Herbology Professor still at his grandmother's home. She filled her own goblet with a small bit of wine, leaning on the chair's arm with her elbow to move closer to him. Under the table, her pointed shoe wrapped around his ankle, hooking his leg against hers.

Draco's pulse jumped in his throat as he regarded Hermione from the corner of his eye. "Did you have a good holiday?"

She hummed in confirmation as she swallowed a mouthful of wine, the dark colour of the liquid sitting on the curve of her lip. When her tongue swiped out to catch the droplets, Draco swore to Salazaar and Merlin, that woman would be the death of him.

"Yes, I got quite an array of presents," Hermione said, setting her cup back to the table. "I even got a letter from Pansy Parkinson with an offer to go see her store. Apparently, someone went recently to buy me a gift, and she thinks there might be much more I'd like, too."

Her gaze regarded the Hall as she spoke, and at these words, Draco looked at her thoroughly with a quirked brow. "Pansy sent you a letter?"

Hermione gave a small shrug, her lips forming a smile. "Yes, and I think I'll take her up on the offer."

Dread settled into the pit of Draco's stomach. Those two women together would only spell trouble. No, he couldn't allow them to get together. For fucks sake, the very idea of them becoming friends made his blood turn to ice.

"No, absolutely—"

"Professor Malfoy!"

The voice of McAdams had Draco snapping his jaw shut and inhaling sharply. He turned back to find McAdams walking towards the faculty table; the Firebolt grasped between his hands and a wide grin on his face.

"I just wanted to thank you again for the Firebolt, Professor," he said, looking between Hermione and Draco with glowing eyes. "It was so much fun to fly, I've never had my own broom before—"

"You're welcome, Mr McAdams." Draco interrupted the boy's ramblings, an uncomfortable feeling settling over him at the praise he received. "I believe your friends are leaving."

McAdams looked back to the Gryffindor table, most of them finishing their dinners to head back to the common room. With a tossed goodbye over his shoulder and a wide wave, McAdams joined them and disappeared through the door.

"You gave him your Firebolt?"

Draco took a large swallow of his wine and settled back into his chair, a frown turning his lips downward. "Yes, apparently I turned into quite the Hufflepuff while you were away. I gave away one of the few remaining presents from my father but..."

He trailed off, uncertain how best to phrase what had happened. He certainly didn't want Hermione to think he was a gigantic Pygmy Puff.

Hermione's hand rested atop his on the arm of the chair, her warm fingers pressing into his skin. Draco looked over to find her honey-coloured eyes watching him with something he couldn't quite place.

"Come to my room tonight."

With those words she stood, unhooking her foot from around his ankle and walking down the platform. She said a few hurried hellos to the students still at their tables, and Draco's heart thundered in his chest with each step of those beautiful heels as she left.

Tonight couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

The light knock on her chamber door, hours later, thundered in the empty hall, and Draco swore his pulse was just as loud. He counted the seconds that ticked by waiting for her to answer, body tense with anticipation at the possibility of being caught. It would only take one roaming student or faculty member to round that corner and—

The door pried open soundlessly, and Draco jumped a little at being caught off-guard. Hermione stood before him, her teacher's robes draped over her body, and her curls pulled back into a messy bun. Before Draco could even bite out a greeting, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

Her bedroom was similar to Draco's, though not quite as dark, and of course, decorated in appalling Gryffindor colours. Before he could inspect the room further, he felt the sudden pressure of lips on his cheeks. Glancing to Hermione, he found her blushing brightly and fidgeting nervously with the sleeve of her robe.

"Why are you wearing your teacher's robes?"

Hermione ignored his question and walked to the centre of the room to lean against the footboard of her bed. Draco could spy those dark emerald heels still clad on her feet and thrill went through him.

"So, you like your present, then?"

Hermione regarded him with a smouldering look from beneath her lashes. A curl dropped from her bun, and she quickly tucked it behind her ear. "I...um...I—"

She chewed on her bottom lip, and Draco watched her teeth nibble on the sensitive flesh. He took a step towards her, but she held out a shaking hand, her blush deepening.

"Wait, there's something...I still have to give you your present."

Draco smirked and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the door. "Alright, where is it?"

Hermione moved the outstretched hand to the top button of her robes, her gaze burning a hole into the floor and her blush darkening tenfold. With a deep breath, she undid the clasp, the black fabric cracking open and sliding down her arms to pool on the floor.

Draco was sure he had died.

Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, Wizarding World saviour stood before him wearing... wearing... Fuck, she was wearing _lingerie_.

A dark green teddy hugged her torso, the lace curving delectably over her hips. The large slit straight down the centre, barely held by a single strap of fabric in the centre, pulled her breasts together. Her legs were clad in black stockings that stopped just above her knees, the lace trim gripping her soft thighs. The golden snake of those beautiful shoes he had given to her stood out in stark contrast from the dark fabric, and as she shuffled her feet nervously, Draco's gaze flickered back up from his roving to find her staring at him in apprehension.

Speechless, his arms dropped from their hold, and hung loosely by his sides in surprise.

"Is this..." he trailed off, his brain unable to form anything more.

"Your present," Hermione replied softly, her hands running gently over the rosaline fabric. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

Pushing off from the door, Draco crossed the stone flooring to stand in front of her, only an arm's length away. "You picked this out for me?"

She twirled her fingers together; her straightened arms pushing her breasts up and causing Draco to harden in his trousers at the sight. "Well... Blaise told me your favourite colour is green and Harry said that maybe this would be a good choice—"

"I don't want to hear those tosser's names right now," Draco said bitingly, cutting her off. He reached forward to wrap the curl that had fallen from her bun around his finger. Dropping the strand, he trailed his finger over her cheek and down to her mouth, grazing the plump flesh. Hermione parted her mouth, a stifled sigh escaping it as Draco pressed harder. They maintained eye contact through it all, her honey-brown eyes watching him—pupils blown with desire.

"Can I kiss you?" They both knew what he truly meant to ask.

Draco watched Hermione's larynx bob as she swallowed nervously. "Yes."

It was all he needed to hear.

Closing the gap between them, Draco wrapped her in his arms, his hand circling her waist to pull her close as their lips met. The kiss was instantly heated, the desire pressing in his trousers spurring him to lose all abandon. Their tongues danced together as her hands came to tangle in his pale hair and she gasped into his mouth. The sound made his pulse heat, and he quickly roamed his palms up the lace of her teddy bodysuit to cup her face, pressing his lips more firmly against hers.

Draco pulled away reluctantly, his hands still on her cheeks and hers still in his hair. Her red, swollen lips glistened delightfully, and a thrill went through him as her tongue darted out to trace them.

"So you like it?" she asked softly.

Draco smirked, "It's perfect."

"This is only the first part," Hermione replied, her voice even softer than before. Draco could tell she was nervous—if her shaking hands and whispering were any indication.

He quirked an eyebrow, dropping his hands to grip her hips tightly. "And what's the second?"

Disentangling herself from him, Hermione took a step back and pulled her wand free from her bun to let the chestnut curls cascade over her shoulders. With a flick of her wrist, the candlelight dimmed considerably, and Draco blinked a few times to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkened room. Turning her back to him, he delighted to find the reverse side of the garment was completely backless, and the part that covered her arse barely hid anything, the rounded mounds pushed out either side of the fabric.

Her heels clicked pleasantly on the stone flooring as she walked to her bed, setting her wand gently atop the nightstand. As she turned around with a hooded gaze, Draco willed everything in him to not trail after her like a lost puppy.

"Your second present, Draco, is I want..." Hermione trailed off and took a deep breath. As she let it out, he could see her eyes burn even from a distance. "I want you to fuck me."


	11. Everything is about to change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have seriously earned this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Serious beta love to FaeOrabel.
> 
> **Smut Warning**

**Chapter 11: Everything is about to change**

If someone had asked Draco how he planned to spend his Christmas evening, he would have said at the end of a bottle, drowning his sorrows in firewhiskey.

It surely would not have come to mind that instead, he'd be fucking _Hermione Granger._

But here he was, pulling moans from the witch's lips as she lay naked, sprawled on her bed with the ugly crimson sheets, the lace teddy she wore for him now lost somewhere on the floor. Draco lay between her stocking-clad legs, devouring her sex with as much vigour as he could muster. The cries of ecstasy that left her throat were a song, the melody branded forever in his memories.

His shirt had been ripped from his body the moment he had claimed her lips after her words.

" _I want you to fuck me."_

Once this was over, and once Hermione realised what she had done and hexed him into oblivion, he wanted those words engraved on his tombstone.

There had been a moment of hesitation, her staring at his Dark Mark standing stark against his pale skin when they had pulled from the kiss. But Draco made sure to steer her lips back to his before any words could be uttered. One mention of the brand would be like throwing a bucket of ice water over him, and he may have died if that happened.

As Draco swiped his tongue over her clit, her delicious scent and taste coating his face, Hermione came undone, her orgasm wracking through her body. Back arched, she cried out and tangled her hands in his hair, his tongue a gentle caress as he worked her through the comedown.

As the heels of her pumps pressed into his back, Draco swore he would never forget this moment for as long as he lived.

Hermione's breaths turned laboured as Draco sat up, his erection pressing painfully against the inside of his trousers. He took in the sight before him; Hermione, wild curls spread around her head, her eyes clouded with lust as her chest heaved to calm herself.

She parted her perfect pink lips, and before she could tell him to leave, he surged forward to capture them. Their tongues darted together, and he had a brief sense of satisfaction as she moaned from tasting herself on his mouth. Draco ground his pelvis against her, his cock meeting her hot centre. The fabric of his trousers created a barrier between them, and he stifled a grunt of frustration.

Apparently, he hadn't stifled it enough, because Hermione pulled from the kiss, looking down at their bodies pressed together. She wiggled out from his hold, and Draco tried to school his features so as not to let the impending disappointment show.

Sitting on her knees, Hermione faced him, and Draco turned to her, resting on his elbow. He reached out a hand to trace a line down her neck and over a breast, the nail slightly grazing her nipple. A sharp breath sucked in through her nose, and Draco looked up to find her eyes molten gold as she took him in.

"Can I..." Hermione trailed off, tucking her swollen bottom lip between her teeth again and looking away in embarrassment.

"You've already told me you wanted to fuck me, Granger," Draco said, his voice rough with want. "Spit it out."

"I want to return the favour." Her eyes darted to his covered cock, the length twitching as she licked her lips.

His heart instantly leapt into his throat, but he tried to keep his composure. So, instead of telling Hermione that she nearly just killed him, he flipped to his back, placing a hand behind his head with a smirk on his lips. "By all means, ravish me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, though it quickly disappeared to be replaced with a nervous gaze as she looked back to his trousers.

"Have you done this before?" Draco asked with concern.

Red instantly coloured her cheeks, and she furrowed her brow as she tried to hide her face behind her mass of curls. "N-no, but I've read about it..."

"You've— _read_ about it?"

"Yes," she huffed, her embarrassment now stirring the familiar, angry Hermione back to the surface.

"In what types of books?" Draco couldn't help the smirk that curled his lips as her blush deepened.

"It doesn't matter!" In anger, she reached forward to grip his waistband, but Draco quickly grasped her wrist, stilling her movements. Dropping her hand, he trailed his fingers up her arm and to her face, grabbing her bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger gently before releasing the bruised flesh.

"Did you read them in _dirty_ books?" he mumbled, his cock twitching at the idea of prudish, good-girl Hermione Granger, enjoying herself as she read about two people fucking. "Did you touch yourself while you… studied?"

Hermione's mouth popped open and quickly snapped shut, her blush now spreading down her neck. "I-I, well..."

Draco sat up in a swift movement, tangled his hands in Hermione's curls, and crashed her lips to his. Guiding her on top of him, her legs settled on either side of his hips, her heated centre pressed to his throbbing length. His free hand roamed over her back, cresting over the swell of her arse and giving a gentle squeeze.

Pulling from the kiss, Hermione's breath was warm against his face, "Don't you want me to...?" she trailed off, tugging her lip between her teeth.

Truthfully, he would have surely loved to have her mouth around his cock. But his craving for the witch was already so high, he feared one swipe of her tongue would have him coming in an instant.

"We can play later," he replied with a strained smirk, and recaptured her mouth, using his tongue to swipe over where her teeth had been nibbling on the flesh. To his surprise, Hermione deepened it further and reached between her legs to undo the button of his trousers.

Taking the hint, Draco aided her, undoing the clasps and quickly shifting his legs to pull them off without having to break from her sweet lips.

When his cock pressed to her core, finally without a barrier between them, he groaned loudly into her mouth. He didn't even have time to ask if he could continue—as a proper gentleman should. Instead, Hermione gripped him, her soft hand warm around his length, and guided the tip of his cock to her soaked centre.

The first inch was torture.

It was slow—unbearably so. Hermione took him languidly, and Draco contained every animalistic urge to ram inside of her, to bury himself in her in one quick stroke. He knew he was large, and though Draco was sure she wasn't a virgin, she still didn't seem to be all that experienced.

Once fully seated on his cock, their kiss stilled, though their lips stayed pressed together as Hermione allowed herself to become accustomed to his size.

When she shifted her hips, Draco saw stars.

She was so perfectly tight around him, so wet and hot. Draco gripped her hips tightly, sure that finger-sized bruises would mark the skin come morning. His hands continued further down over her thighs, the stocking material silk beneath his fingers.

With a stifled breath, Hermione finally raised herself up, and Draco said a silent prayer to whatever deity granted him this gift.

When she came back down again, Draco made a promise that if he ever found out what deity had, he would become devout.

He could feel her quiver around him as she did it again, her slick coating his cock. A small whimper left her lips as their pelvises met for the third time, and Draco mumbled words of encouragement against her mouth.

As she increased her speed, their tongues met, tasting and exploring with a chaotic and ravenous rhythm. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling the locks tightly between her fingers, and Draco relished the small amount of pain. As Hermione sat up to grind against him, her pace faltered, and Draco in his haste to chase the pleasure, bucked up into her.

The loud groan that escaped her mouth made him do it again—and again. The sounds of pleasure coming from the witch spurred him on, his hips slapping against her roughly and without restraint. His fingers resumed their spots on her hips to hold her steady, his thumbs fitting so perfectly into the divot that he was sure it was made just for him.

Hermione matched him thrust for thrust—always the overachiever. Draco could tell, though he enjoyed this position, Hermione was too focused on her movements and not enough on her pleasure. So, moving his hands to grip her arse cheeks, Draco stopped their actions and sat up, their lips crashing together again as their chests met. As her arms wrapped around his neck, he flipped them, pressing her into the abhorrent red cloth.

"We really must get you new sheets," Draco mumbled, his words holding none of the bite that they meant to, too focused on the hunger filling every fibre of his body.

Hermione rolled her eyes; her cheeks tinged pink from the warmth of the room, "Do we really have to discuss that right now?"

Draco bucked into her deeply, causing a gasp to be ripped from her mouth. "No, I have more important things to do right now."

Grabbing her leg, he tucked her knee into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to sink deeper inside her. Another gasp left her lips as he ground against her, and the sound sent a fresh wave of desire that coated his skin in goosebumps. His cock pulsated with the ache of wanting to move quickly, to fuck fast and hard and have her panting his name. But he wanted to take this unhurriedly, wanted to make sure she enjoyed every minute of it.

Merlin, who was he turning into?

As he slid out slowly, the feel of her tightening around him had Draco pushing back in almost immediately. He repeated this action a few times, her nails digging into his back and whispered swears floating across his skin.

"Draco..." she mumbled, his name on her lips like a plea. "Please. I need... I want more."

It took everything in him not to come undone at those words.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck as he slid out and back in again.

The huff of irritation Hermione gave in response had his lips curling into a smirk against her skin. The silence stretched between them, Draco continuing his lazy pace, his cock throbbing in defiance of his deliberate actions.

Until finally, she repeated those words that brought them to this scenario in the first place.

"I want you to _fuck_ me."

A jolt shot down his spine and straight to his cock, and he gripped her leg a little tighter to stop himself from ramming into her. After a few deep breaths and another brief thank you to any deity that was listening, Draco complied.

His vision turned black as he shut his eyes tight and readjusted his hips to give her what she wanted, increasing his speed slowly. He wanted to make sure she became accustomed to the pace; to ensure she enjoyed what he was about to do.

Because Draco was about to fuck the ever-living daylights out of Hermione.

Hips thrusting, every nerve ending of his cock went haywire as Hermione moaned, her walls fluttering against him. She shifted her hips against his, angling in just the right way to allow him deeper. It felt as if she had got wetter—if that was even possible—and it only spurred Draco on. He moved her leg, using his hand to push her stocking-clad knee back to the mattress and— _fuck_ —the sharp heel of her shoe dug into his hip...

If Heaven were real, this would be his.

A groan left his mouth as Hermione tugged his hair, her nails scraping his scalp in a tingling pain that made him see red. Draco bit her shoulder in response, earning a gasp from the witch. The scent of her curls filled his nose as he took a deep breath, the lavender scent surrounding him like a cocoon. Her heel dug further into his skin, and Draco hoped with some odd ache of want, that it would leave a permanent mark.

All too soon, he could feel himself nearing the edge, and in a last-ditch effort to make Hermione come again, Draco dropped her leg and reached between them. His thumb flicked rapidly over her clit, and he trailed his tongue up her neck and to her ear, biting the lobe with more force than he meant. The choked moan that followed indicated that she liked it, so he did it again.

"Draco, I'm going to come; please don't stop."

As if he had any intention of that.

Draco shifted his thumb quicker, his cock pressing deeper inside of her in his haste. His movements became erratic as he chased his own orgasm, the feel of her breaths like a hot symphony on his skin.

With a cry, Hermione came, her back arching and arms tightening around him to draw him closer. The sound was unlike anything Draco had heard before; it was like his own personal siren song, the beautiful melody calling to him in a storm. As her walls clenched around him, Draco tipped over his edge, following Hermione's cry with a strangled grunt.

They could have laid there tangled together for minutes—hours— _days_ , and Draco wouldn't have noticed. He no longer knew where Hermione began, and he ended. His limbs felt leaden and spent, and when he _finally_ managed to pull out of her and lay down beside her, his lungs chasing a breath, the only thing he wanted to do was laugh.

He had just fucked _Hermione Granger._

In _Hogwarts_.

In _her room._

And he wanted to do it again.

* * *

They had laid together for nearly two hours, wrapped in each other's embrace. Draco had traced his fingertips along every part of Hermione's skin he could touch, his lips eventually following.

"When did you realise you fancied me?" Hermione asked while Draco trailed his mouth over her clothed knee.

Pulling back, Draco smirked and grabbed the heel of her shoe, placing the flat of it against his chest. His fingers moved lightly over the faux-hide, and he planted a gentle kiss to her ankle above the metal snake.

"Just before the sorting, when you walked in wearing those damn black pumps. I was a goner the moment I saw you."

Hermione snorted, "Oh, please. They're just shoes."

Draco gave her an incredulous look, trying to put as much sincerity into his gaze as possible. "Granger, you have no idea what these things do to me. You told me once that wearing these makes you feel powerful."

Hermione swallowed and nodded.

"Well, I _like_ seeing you feel powerful. I like the way you hold yourself up a little higher when you wear them. I like the way a newfound confidence radiates from you with each clicking step. But mostly..." he trailed off, smirking. "Mostly I just like the way your arse swings as you walk."

He let out a barked laugh as Hermione sat up to slap his arm, and he reached forward to grip her wrist, dropping her leg and pulling their chests flush against each other. "What about you?"

Trailing light kisses down her neck, the corners of Draco's lips curled upward as her breath hitched.

"I suppose I began to think differently of you when I discovered how close you are with Neville and Susan, and then when we went to see Hagrid... I just realised you weren't that same, snotty boy from when we were children."

Hermione's fingers drew a gentle path over his bare back, and across the faded _Sectumsempra_ scars lining his torso. "At least, most of the time."

She let out a gentle squeal and laughed as Draco pinned her beneath him, hovering on his forearms, a sneer contorting his features. "I can be that snotty boy again if that's what you prefer."

Hermione grinned and placed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Oh, no, please. I don't think the students could take much more of your sour attitude."

"How about I show you just how sour I can be?" Draco bent and nibbled her collar bone, pulling a sharp gasp from the witch's lips. Already, he could feel himself hardening again, her warm, soft body filling every inch of him with desire.

"Draco..." she whispered, "it's late, and no one can know—"

"No one can know about this. I _know_." Draco sighed and ground against her warm centre. "I'll be quick, I promise."

Her legs rubbed against his hips, the position squaring his cock to her entrance.

"Hermione, don't tease me." Draco groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. "You have no idea how much you drive me insane, witch."

"Show me."

His head snapped up at her words, finding a bright blush covering her cheeks. Hermione pulled her reddened lips between her teeth, and Draco's cock throbbed at the action. Leaning down, he captured her mouth, pulling her lip between his teeth instead so he could bite on it gently. The moan from her throat had him pressing against her, finding her still slick with want.

When he pressed in this time, it was as if he had just come home.

Hermione sighed as he seated himself fully in her, his length pressing that sweet spot he now knew made her writhe. Pulling out gently, Draco barely made it halfway before his body defiantly pushed back in. It was as if his primal instincts overrode his brain, his blood screaming to fuck the witch hard and fast while his mind wanted it slow and tender. If this was how it would be every time, Draco would go completely insane.

Hermione panted, her eyes half-lidded and mouth parted open in pleasure. "Can you go faster?"

At those words, his blood sang.

Reluctantly pulling out, Draco smirked as she let out a small whimper. "Turn around. On your knees."

She crooked a brow, but complied, her beautiful bare arse fully on display before him. Arching her back propped it even higher in the air, and Draco nearly came at the sight.

With a growl, he cupped her arse cheeks in either hand, squeezing roughly as he slid back inside of her. The new position made her even tighter, and he was able to feel every glorious inch of her quim as he pressed his pelvis to her skin.

"You want it faster?" His voice came out strained; he could barely contain the desire he felt.

Hermione, face pressed to her pillow, nodded, her tangled curls flying in every direction.

Gripping her hips tightly, Draco slid out and pressed back, his cock twitching at the moans leaving her mouth. He quickened his pace, the magnificent sounds of pleasure and slapping flesh filling the room. Hermione's arse jiggled deliciously with each thrust, and when Draco gently slapped a hand over one mound, his pace stuttered at the beautiful sharp gasp she gave.

"Did you like that?" he grunted, doing it again.

Hermione whimpered as his hand made contact, her lip trapped between her teeth. It was apparent she enjoyed it a bit rough, and Draco felt an odd rush of courage at her reactions. To test the waters, he reached forward to tangle her curls in his fingers, gently pulling her back against him.

The new position allowed him to plunge deeper inside of her, and Hermione cried out as he bucked inside her. Draco growled at the sight and gripped her breast with his free hand, biting the crook of her neck.

"Touch yourself."

Hermione followed his command, her fingers flying to her clit to rub it in haphazard circles.

As he fucked her harder, his movements increased in speed and force as he felt her walls fluttering around his cock. Her other hand scrabbled for purchase on his arm as her fingers quickened at her clit, and with a sharp cry, Hermione came, her quim pulsating around him.

It was even more beautiful than the previous ones had been.

With her head thrown back against his shoulder, Draco disentangled his fingers from her hair and gripped the other breast. It allowed him to steady his pace into a firm rhythm, her arse pushing splendidly against his groin.

When he came this time, spilling himself deep inside of her, Draco swore his heart stopped beating.

Reluctantly, he let her breasts go, and Hermione dropped unceremoniously to the bed, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she turned to face him.

Draco stayed on his knees, his cock still half-hard, and grinned down at the bushy-haired witch. "You're going to be the death of me."

The smile she gave him made her glow; her skin glistened with sweat. Draco hoped the bright red marks marring the surface of her breasts and hips would last for days.

When she reached a hand forward, Draco fell into her instantly, tucking her into his side and pressing a lazy kiss to her cheek.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," Hermione mumbled.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he replied, burying his face into her lavender-scented mass of curls.

Oh, he was done absolutely for.

* * *

Draco woke the next morning from the best sleep of his life. Sure, he was alone, back in his own bed after having snuck out of Hermione's, but he couldn't be happier. He finally had sex with Hermione—twice—and it was even better than his dreams had ever conjured.

The sounds of her moans still filled his ears, and her scent still lingered on his skin. He would be lying if he said he hadn't wanked to the memory of their romp right after waking.

Dressing with a spring in his step, Draco hurried to the Great Hall for breakfast, the hour much later than he had intended to wake. The tables were half-empty, the students already off doing whatever it was they did after Christmas. A handful played a game of Exploding Snap at the Gryffindor table, and Draco was happy to note a few Slytherin's amongst them.

Hermione sat at her chair, The Daily Prophet held up in front of her, shielding her from view, though her mass of curls still poked around the pages.

Draco sidled into his seat nonchalantly, fixing a cup of tea and his plate.

"Good morning, Granger." He greeted with an air of indifference.

"Malfoy," she replied, her eyes never leaving the page she was perusing. To a passerby, she would have sounded apathetic, but Draco could hear the small rise in her voice that divulged her true emotions.

Draco smirked into his cup. They had discussed this at length last night before he left, both agreeing that it would be best to pretend they were still distant with each other. McGonagall's rule of no relationships angered Hermione, but Draco knew there would be nothing for it right now. He didn't want to risk everyone knowing his business when there was a substantial chance Hermione would realise just who it was she let fuck her, and subsequently kick him to the curb.

"Interesting story on page three," Hermione commented as she sipped her tea.

Draco looked over at the papers in her hand, a brow arched as he read over the articles and pictures. There, right at the centre of page three, was a picture of him and Pansy as they walked through Diagon Alley on Christmas Eve. Her arm was wrapped in his, and the bold title "Slytherin Prince and Princess back together?" sat just above it.

Draco snorted, "About as interesting as Thestral dung."

Hermione smiled as she flipped the page, but a sudden, booming voice caught their attention.

"Draco! 'ermione! You'll never believe the news I just got." Hagrid bellowed as he half-ran to the table. A piece of parchment waved between his fingers excitedly, and when he came to their chairs, he thrust the letter to Hermione.

"Draco, d'you remember last year when I wanted to bring dragons in fer the students?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Hagrid, I told you how dangerous that would be. McGonagall agreed—"

"Well when the Headmistress heard my other idea, she said yes and wrote to the Ministry," Hagrid rushed out. "And they said it would be fine to 'ave _baby_ dragons come, as long as a Keeper stays with 'em."

"Hagrid," Hermione interrupted, eyes darting over the letter. "The Ministry approved this?"

"Yep!' Hagrid exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "And you'll never believe who's bringin' 'em! It was supposed to be Charlie, but suppose he's a bit busy, now that he's in charge of runnin' the Sanctuary and all."

Hermione furrowed her brow at the parchment, and Hagrid uttered words that had Draco's stomach plummeting to depths previously undiscovered by man.

"Ron's goin' to bring 'em!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops. cliffhanger ???? heheh


	12. Pets, dates, and naughty things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is well<3 We've finally passed 50k words!
> 
> Beta love to FaeOrabel!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/50335226842/in/dateposted-public/)

**Chapter 12: Pets, dates, and naughty things**

Draco frowned into his teacup as Hagrid told Hermione the details of Weasley's arrival. The ginger fucker would be here two weeks after the start of the second term, and Draco contemplated how best to hand in his resignation. Surely McGonagall couldn't expect them to work together? What would his job here even be? Just to take care of the baby dragons?

"He offered to 'elp coach the Gryffindor Quidditch team too, since they aren't doin' so well this year," Hagrid said, glancing slightly to Draco.

That's it—he was quitting today.

Draco downed the rest of his tea and stood, "Well let's hope he can actually teach them something. Weasley is our king, right?"

Leaving the table, Draco stalked to the hall with the intent to go for a ride on his broom when he remembered he no longer owned one.

"Damn it all," he grumbled. He supposed he'd have to make an order to Quality Quidditch Supplies, which was unfortunate as it would take at least a week to arrive. Maybe he could pay a bit extra for express delivery...

"Draco!"

Turning from the Dungeon door, he whirled around to find Hermione stalking towards him. He was disappointed to see she wore regular shoes today, though he could admit she looked ravishing in her cream-coloured sweater and pale pink trousers. She was easily an entire head shorter than him without her heels, a fact he seemed to have missed from the last time he saw her in flat shoes. Though, in his defence, it was because she had levitated him by his ankles.

As she approached him, Draco nearly chuckled at the height difference. If only his mood hadn't been soured by a damned Weasley invading his school.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, reaching a hand out to grip his forearm.

Draco stepped out of her grasp, afraid that someone would see. The crestfallen look she gave him had guilt fill his chest. "I'm fine. I just realised I no longer own a broom."

"This isn't about Ron?"

Draco pinched his lips together and tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. "Why would I care about a Weasley?"

Hermione crossed her arms and, though shorter than Draco, still managed to look down her nose at him. "I know you two don't like each other. I _know_ it's going to be difficult working together, but Ron's changed a lot since school. Being in Romania has been good for him."

Draco uncharacteristically snorted, "I'll believe Wrackspurts are real sooner than I'd believe that. I'm not even concerned about that, it's more..." he trailed off, unsure if he should air what was exactly bothering him.

It wasn't that he didn't care about Weasley coming, Draco knew that it was going to be his literal hell. But he was more concerned with what it might mean for him and Hermione, for whatever it was budding between them. Weasley's presence could ruin everything.

"What?" Hermione reached a tentative hand out, lightly touching his arm again. This time, Draco didn't have the heart to pull away.

"It's—nothing. I just know the minute that ginger-haired fuck walks through the doors, the school will turn into an absolute madhouse."

"Draco!" The reprimand caused a smirk to curl his lips as she rolled her eyes.

"What are your plans for the day?" Hermione asked, dropping her hand back to her side.

Draco tried to school his features, so he wouldn't show just how much he missed her touch. "I suppose a flight is impossible…perhaps I'll brew some potions. I _do_ need to make some Amortentia for the sixth-years when they return."

"While I wouldn't mind a day of potion brewing," Hermione said with a smile. "What if we go shopping instead?"

"Shopping?" Draco grimaced.

"Someone might have mentioned they bought you a voucher for the Magical Menagerie..." Her smile widened as Draco's grimace deepened.

"Granger, if you think for one moment I'm purchasing a pet, I'll be convinced you're off your rocker."

Hermione laughed, "Oh, c'mon, Draco! We can glamour ourselves so no one will recognise us. Harry and I do it all the time when we go to Diagon."

Draco opened his mouth to refuse again, but Hermione cut in first. "Plus, we could make a stop to Quality Quidditch Supplies. I hear the Starsweeper Eighteen just came out."

Draco snapped and clenched his jaw shut. It _would_ be faster than ordering one, and he supposed if he were glamoured at least no one would know it was him.

"Fine. But I'm not buying a damned pet."

* * *

"What do you think of this one? She seems sweet!" a blonde Hermione asked, peering into the nearby cage.

Draco scowled, "For the last time, I am not buying a damned Streeler."

They decided to swap features with their glamours, so Hermione's hair turned pale and straight, eyes the colour of the sky, while both of Draco's features turned her shade of brown. After a quick walk to Hogsmeade, and many curious glances from passing students at seeing two adults they didn't know, they side-longed to Diagon. They quickly ducked into the Menagerie, though Draco did put up some resistance. The only reason he was here now was with the whispered promise of a reward later.

"Oh, who do we have here?" Hermione cooed as she lifted a large black bundle from a cage on the floor.

"Put it back." Draco spat out. "There is no way in seven hells—"

"Ah! I see you've found our little Hamilton!" The shopkeeper cut in. "He's lively, that one. Very selective. Purebred Kneazles are like that; they know who their people are. Hamilton's got a bit of an attitude, so if he starts to get feisty just put him down. Nearly tore a poor kids arm apart back before school started when she tried to hold him."

Draco glanced to the Kneazle, startled to find his pure silver eyes on him. The cat-creature regarded him with a lazy blink, before jumping from Hermione's arms and onto Draco's chest.

Draco scrambled to hold the creature as it clawed to climb up his body, glad for the thick peacoat he wore, or his chest would've been scratched to hell. The black furball wound itself around his neck, paws on either end of his shoulder and long tail swishing across his arm.

_What the fuck._

Draco stared incredulously at Hermione, who tried hard to hide giggles behind her hand.

"Say! Would you look at that?" the shopkeeper exclaimed, "Seems like Hamilton likes you. Were you looking for a Kneazle?"

"Well, Dra— _he_ received a voucher from a friend for Christmas. It's listed as five pounds or smaller, but we were having a difficult time deciding what to get. He's a bit picky." Hermione smiled at the glare Draco shot her.

"Well..." the elderly man regarded the Kneazle wrapped on Draco's shoulders. "Suppose I _could_ let him go for a voucher. Poor thing's been here nearly a year already."

Draco frowned, "Absolutely not! I do _not_ want a Kneazle; I'd rather a Pygmy Puff before this damned thing."

A strained yowl came from the animal, his tail twitching up to smack Draco in the face. Both Hermione and the shopkeeper chuckled.

"Sorry, lad, looks like you'll be taking him whether you want to or not. Kneazles pick their wizards and witches, you know. Half-Kneazles aren't quite so picky, but purebreds—they'll wait around years until the perfect person comes along. Now, about that voucher..."

Draco scowled as he left the shop twenty minutes later, the damned cat still wrapped around his neck and lying comfortably on his shoulders. "If you think this will be a regular occurrence, cat, then you're sorely mistaken. My shoulders are not a perch."

Hermione came out a moment after, her pale blonde hair glistening in the sun. "Well, that went smoothly."

Draco turned his scowl to her. "Granger, we had to tell him who we were because of the license paperwork. We were in there for nearly half-an-hour listening to him ramble about the great Harry Fucking Potter. I was almost ready to hex my ears off."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and reaching a hand out to pet the top of Hamilton's head. "What a beautiful creature. Will you be keeping the name?"

Draco attempted a shrug, which was challenging to do, given that his shoulders were currently weighed down. "I'm not keeping him, so I don't give a flying fuck what his name is."

Another strangled yowl left the Kneazle's mouth, directly into Draco's ear.

Hermione laughed and reached forward to grab Draco's hand. "C'mon. A quick stop to Flourish and Blotts and then we can get you your broom."

Draco made to pull away from her hand until he saw the blonde tresses and remembered they were glamoured. They could be affectionate in public, and no one would pay them any mind. The thought had him lacing their fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze, smirking at the light blush that covered Hermione's cheeks at the action.

They walked through the semi-empty streets of Diagon, making a stop at Flourish and Blotts that was anything _but_ quick. They spent nearly an hour in there until Draco had to forcibly pull Hermione from the stacks. They received a few odd glances that had a small pit of worry settle in his stomach until he remembered the black cat lounging on his shoulders.

Finally leaving the bookstore, they made their way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, spying a few children's noses pressed to the exterior glass. He recognised two of them as second-years, so he was thankful for the glamour he and Hermione wore. He knew first-hand that it only took one questioning child to create gossip that spread like wild-fire.

They all stared at the latest model Starsweeper from where it sat shiny and new in the window, a few of the children jostling each other to get a closer look. As they entered, Draco greeted the woman behind the counter and made a quick inspection of the broom.

"How much is this?" he asked.

"Oh! That's the Starsweeper Eighteen! Fastest on the market with all the latest spells. We're selling it for three-thousand galleons, which is quite a steal if you ask me. The catalogues are trying to run up prices by selling it for nearly twice that—"

"I'll take it," Draco said, snatching the broom from the display. The children outside all stared at him in awe through the window. He scribbled a note for the woman to take to Gringotts, tapped it with his wand to sign, and passed it to the stunned woman, not even bothering to have it wrapped as he and Hermione walked out of the store.

" _That_ is how you shop, Granger," Draco mumbled as he led them past the gawking eyes. "Quick and to the point."

Hermione walked behind him rolling her eyes, but when Draco reached out to retake her hand, she stopped and smiled.

A small fluttering of... _something_ filled Draco's stomach at the upturn of her lips and the slight blush of her cheeks. He barely even felt the cold wind as they walked through the streets toward the Leaky Cauldron.

"How about lunch? My treat." Draco asked as they continued to their destination.

"Not at the Leaky, thank you." Hermione grimaced. "The last time I ate there, the pea soup growled at me. I'm quite alright."

"Dinner then. Tonight."

Hermione stopped walking, pulling back on his hand. "But Draco, won't the professors and students wonder? We've already taken a risk by being here together, even with the glamour."

Draco reached forward to tuck a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers lightly over her cheek and to her lips. "We'll lie and say Potter and Blaise had a party if they ask. You know those two would cover for us at the drop of a hat. And we'll go somewhere in Muggle London, so we don't need to worry about the glamours."

Hermione hesitated, and that nagging feeling in the pit of Draco's stomach that told him she would drop him returned. He knew he didn't deserve Hermione, but he wanted to. He wanted to deserve her; he wanted to be that man for her.

Fuck; he really was turning into a sap.

"Okay."

He searched her grey eyes, the feature so un-Hermione-like that it unnerved him a bit; he missed staring into those pools of honey. Cracking a small smile, he grabbed her hand again and side-longed them back to Hogwarts—Kneazle, broom, and a multitude of books in tow.

* * *

Draco paced at the Apparition point in Hogsmeade hours later, his nerves working into a frenzy. He didn't know why he was so bloody nervous. He had already skipped all the formalities that came with courting; they already slept together for Merlin's sake!

But still, the fluttering in his stomach persisted.

He glanced down to the shoes Pansy had given him to ensure the charms he placed on them held. For the hundredth time that evening, he second-guessed his attire, the black trousers and burgundy shirt fit to his body, his dark grey peacoat open to cool against the overzealous warming charm he had placed on himself. Draco didn't know why he chose this colour when he absolutely hated it, but he knew Hermione would love it, and maybe his subconscious tried to help him.

At least he looked good in it, but then again, he looked good in everything.

The crunching of snow had his attention pulled from his clothes to the witch approaching him, and his breath caught in his throat. The first thing Draco noticed was that Hermione wore the shoes he bought for her, the snakes glinting from the reflective snow. Eyes trailing up bare legs, Draco's heart sped.

Hermione wore a form-fitted dress, the hem stopping just above her knee. It was deep emerald green and looked to be made of crushed velvet. The fabric continued over her arms to create tight sleeves down to her wrists, and when she sauntered closer towards Draco, his eyes finally looked to her face. The makeup she had done created a tantalising effect, and with her hair now back to the brown curls cascading down her back, it only made Draco want to march them right back into the castle and to his bedroom.

No woman had any right to be this beautiful, and when she cracked a smile with those red-painted lips, Draco had to take a steadying breath.

He offered his arm, and she took it, wrapping her hands around it gently. The proximity of her body made something in his stomach jolt. It felt so different to how they had been earlier that day—when they had just been two ordinary people shopping together. Now, they were going on a _date_ , and as Draco stared into Hermione's dark eyes, he realised just how much he cared for her.

He side-longed them to an alley in Muggle London, and after bracing themselves, Hermione pulled a thick beige coat from her tiny purse. Draco arched a brow as she slipped it around her shoulders, and she gave him a wry smile.

"I'm pretty sure I'd get an odd look or two if I went trapezing around in this weather without a coat. The warming charm only lasts so long anyways."

She left the front open, which Draco was glad for; he couldn't deny he would have been disappointed if she covered _all_ of her dress.

With a smirk, he led them out of the alley and straight into the heart of a Muggle-filled street. Draco felt a small sense of panic at being swarmed by so many people, but when Hermione gave him a gentle squeeze on his arm, he relaxed. They walked past lively restaurants and stores, the bright lights reflecting off the glass fronts. It was so different from how Diagon had been earlier, the streets relatively empty; Muggle London always had a sort of entertaining demeanour.

Draco pulled Hermione towards their destination, the stark white restaurant bright against the darkened sky.

"Quo Vadis? Draco this is..." Hermione stared open-mouthed at the letters above the door.

Draco shrugged, "This was where we always came for breakfast before I left for school. I've never had their dinner, but their breakfast foods were excellent."

"Of course you did." Hermione chuckled and shook her head slightly, her pinned back curls swaying with the movement.

They walked inside, and Draco took a moment to enjoy the familiar scenery. He tried not to let the nostalgia get the best of him and pushed away the memories of his parents sitting at the squared table in the corner.

The hostess asked them their name, and he answered, muttering a wandless spell to change the names on the list before she looked it over. Confirming their reservation, she led them through white-clothed tables to a private one in the back. The familiar stained-glass windows greeted Draco with their coloured streaks of light, and he smiled at Hermione's awe-stricken face.

Once seated, the waiter came over, and Draco placed an order for their best wine while Hermione stared wide-eyed at the menu.

"Draco, it's so..."

He bit back a chuckle. "Elegant? Sophisticated?"

" _Posh_. One would think you're trying to impress me."

Draco gave a broad grin as he placed his head in his hand and lent forward. "Is it working?"

Hermione blushed and smiled, burying her face into the menu and mumbling something incoherent that sounded along the lines of, "maybe," and "prat."

Once the wine began to flow and dinner was ordered, they fell into comfortable conversation. They stayed on safe topics, and when food began to be brought out, it lulled into a pleasant silence.

On his second bite of steak, he nearly dropped it back to the plate when he felt Hermione's naked foot begin to trail up his leg. His gaze met her molten honey, and when she pulled her red lip between her teeth and smiled, he nearly Apparated them from the dining room.

He barely tasted his food as they finished eating in a rushed manner, and he puffed his chest a bit at the startled look on Hermione's face when he pulled out Muggle money. They quickly walked back to the alley where they arrived and side-longed with a _pop_ , not even bothering to take that extra moment to right themselves after appearing in Hogsmeade.

Hermione's hand on his arm scorched through his clothes; his entire body felt as if jolts of lightning ran through it. The silent promise of another night in her bed had his mind reeling.

"Hold on." Hermione stopped walking and tugged on his arm, making Draco's stomach drop, thinking this is where she would tell him she was done instead.

Rather than the words, Hermione led him around the back of the castle and away from the main entrance. They approached the back wall, lower than the rest of the castle but not quite as low as the dungeons, where an odd mismatch of bricks staggered together. Hermione placed her wand against one and tapped in a rhythm, and they began to separate and reveal a passage-way.

Hermione grinned at what Draco was sure to be a stunned expression on his face, his jaw hanging limply.

"Harry would be so proud of me, but please do me a favour and don't tell him about this; he would never let me live it down."

"Don't worry, Hermione. The day I tell Potter that I followed you through a secret Hogwarts passage to your bedchamber is the day I obliviate myself."

Hermione smiled as she entered the passage-way, Draco following close behind. "Who said you were invited to my bedchamber?"

"Am I mistaken? Or was your foot rubbing my leg during dinner supposed to be to scratch an itch?" He replied, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her around.

Hermione collided into his chest with a gentle gasp that was quickly swallowed by Draco's mouth. The whimper she let out as his tongue swiped her lips echoed against the stone, and Draco walked them until her back pressed against the wall. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he let out a small sigh through his nose as she pulled the locks gently.

Their kiss turned hungry, heating the frigid air between them. Draco's hands gripped her hips tightly, the velvet of her dress soft against his fingers.

"You," he said, peppering kisses across her cheek and down her neck. "Looked absolutely ravishing tonight." He gently bit at the crook of her neck, earning a soft moan from her lips. "Shame I'll have to ruin it."

"Wait until you see what I have on underneath."

The whispered words had Draco's half-hard cock twitch with excitement. This woman would truly be the death of him.

"You're a vixen, Granger. You know that?" Draco pulled back to see a wide grin on Hermione's face and a small blush staining her cheeks.

"Don't act like you don't like it."

Pressing a swift kiss to her lips, Draco stood straight and grabbed her hand, leading her along back on their path. He wanted to be out of this tunnel as quickly as possible; he had plans to show her _just_ how much he liked it.

As they neared the end, Hermione swapped to walk in front, and when they came to the exit, she pressed gently on the backside of the stone door. It slid open silently, and peeking her head out, she stepped into the castle, gesturing for Draco to follow. The secret passage deposited them in the West Wing, and only a short walk to Hermione's chambers.

Once the door slid shut again, Draco shook his head silently at the now seemingly sealed wall. "I don't even want to know how you know about this path."

Hermione smiled slyly, "Hogwarts has many secrets."

Draco shook his head again with a crooked smirk and followed as Hermione walked towards her rooms. Just as she rounded the corner, Hermione let out a small squeak of surprise at the person on the other side.

"N-Neville! Hello."

Draco closed his eyes and sighed, rounding the corner himself to greet his friend. "Neville."

"Draco, Hermione. Well, well, what do we have here?" Neville grinned and crossed his arms, looking between the pair of them. "Where have the two of you been all night? I was hoping to see you both at dinner."

"O-oh, well... Harry and Blaise had a small dinner party tonight that we were both invited to, so..." Hermione trailed off, glancing to Draco for help.

Draco rolled his eyes; Hermione was the absolute worst liar he had ever seen. "We were at the Potter's."

Neville's grin turned mischievous. "Really? How interesting. Seems odd they didn't mention anything to me yesterday when I stopped at the Burrow."

Hermione's eyes went wide, while Draco's narrowed.

"See, I figured I would stop in with my friends to celebrate Christmas with them, just a quick pop-in to say hello. But to my surprise, _you_ weren't there, Hermione. And Harry and Blaise said they were leaving this morning to their vacation home for a few days. So I'm quite interested to know how a dinner party happened." Neville looked utterly pleased with himself.

Draco glared at his friend, "Fine. We went out to dinner, alright?"

"Oh, I figured as much," Neville laughed. "But it was fun to see you two squirm. Piece of advice, don't let McGonagall get wind of this or one of you is going to have to leave. Susan and I have been dating nearly a year, and the only professors that know are you two. Be discreet." With another chuckle and a mumbled, "Susan owes me ten galleons," Neville left them standing in the hall.

Hermione cleared her throat and turned towards Draco with a bright red face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Draco cut her off first.

"I understand if you would prefer we go our separate ways."

Hermione's jaw snapped shut as she looked at him with a questioning gaze. "What?"

"Neville... he's right, you know. If we're caught, one of us is going to have to resign. I don't know about you, Hermione, but I love working here." Draco tucked his hands into the pockets of his peacoat, as he gazed down at the witch.

"Draco—" Hermione started, but stopped and glanced to the ground. As her eyes flickered back up to his, there was an unmistakable fire in her honey-coloured irises. "I _want_ you in my bed tonight."

He would be lying if he said those words hadn't eased the coil in his chest. Smiling lightly, Draco reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "Then lead the way."

* * *

The image of Hermione, sprawled atop her bed in nothing but black lace undies, would be locked away into his memory for eternity, right next to the sounds of her moans from last night. Her kiss-swollen lips parted as a huff of breath left between them when Draco trailed a gentle finger across a hardened nipple. Moving it further south, he left a trail of goosebumps across her skin in its wake. He fingered the edge of the lace, pulling it down over her thighs and tossing it somewhere on the floor.

"I'm so glad I went to all the trouble of wearing it," Hermione mumbled jokingly. She had barely removed her dress before Draco had all but ripped her bra from her. The panties only lasted so long because he had to disrobe too.

"If you think I don't enjoy it, then you're mistaken," Draco replied, running his hands up her legs from where he stood at the edge of the bed. When he came to her hips, he grabbed tightly and yanked her closer to the edge as he sank to his knees, her sex bared to him. "I just prefer you naked more."

Hermione's laugh turned to a strained groan as his tongue flicked gently against her clit, and Draco relished in the now familiar taste of her. He wasted no time in sliding a finger, then two, into her centre, curling them in the way that he remembered she liked. The moan he was awarded in response had him smirking against her, and he quickened the rhythm of his tongue.

This time, it only took him minutes to have her shattering against his mouth.

As his fingers pumped her through it, his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently, earning a sharp gasp from the witch's lips. Draco's naked cock twitched delightfully at the sounds leaving her mouth and throbbed with the need to bury itself inside of her soaked quim.

"Draco," Hermione whispered. "Wait."

Draco stopped his ministrations and looked up at her, pride swelling in his chest to see her face so wantonly flushed and eyes darkened.

"It's my turn."

Draco instantly knew what she meant, and though he desperately wanted her to, he didn't want her to force it. "You don't have to, Hermione."

"I-I want to." Her eyes flicked down, and Draco nearly groaned with anticipation.

"Okay." Pressing a gentle kiss to her clit and giving it a few more swipes with his tongue for good measure, Draco reluctantly pulled his fingers free and stood. "Would you prefer me standing or lying down?"

Hermione sat up, her perfect breasts just within reach. Unable to control himself, Draco took one in hand as Hermione thought, gently pulling on the pert nipple.

"Standing, I think," Hermione said breathlessly as she knelt off the bed, face level with his cock.

The sight nearly did Draco in before she even touched him.

As she grasped the base of his length, he let out a small hiss of pleasure. Reaching out to pull her curls from her face, Draco tangled his finger's in the locks.

When Hermione tentatively licked the tip, a jolt of pleasure shot down his spine and made his legs quiver. When she wrapped her lips around his cock, her tongue pushing on the underside, Draco restrained everything in him to keep still. All he wanted to do was thrust forward and make her swallow him whole. What was it with this witch that had him forget his fine-tuned self-control?

"Fuck, Hermione," Draco muttered as she took him further. He continued to run his fingers through her hair, his hands gently skimming her face reassuringly.

A part of his brain unlocked the memory of that first dream he had of her—when dream-Hermione had knelt in front of him in his classroom and sucked him off. Now, that dream was reality, and if he hadn't felt the definite heat of her mouth and the occasional soft scrape of her teeth, he might've pinched himself to make sure this was real.

As she began to bob her head, Draco tilted his back, sighing slightly at the feel of it. There was nothing like having his cock sucked, and the fact that it was Hermione Granger, of all people, only made it even more pleasurable. His balls tightened as she moved her hand in tandem with her mouth, his hips jolting forward slightly as she took him deeper.

Draco glanced down to watch her, the view of his cock disappearing into her mouth heightening his desire. Hermione pulled back with a pop, rubbing her hand over his cock as she caught her breath. Her honey eyes glanced up to his for a split second before going back to his length.

"Having fun?" Draco couldn't help but ask with a smirk.

Hermione smiled slightly, "This _is_ more enjoyable than I thought it'd be."

She wasted no time in reclaiming his cock between her lips, and the snarky reply Draco had ready got caught in his throat. He could tell she was experimenting with different things, but he had no issue with it. She could try out whatever she pleased—Draco was here for her enjoyment.

All too soon, however, his locked knees began to ache with the burn of self-restraint; cock feeling as if it were about to explode at the lazy pace Hermione set. Tugging on her curls gently, Hermione glanced up at him beneath her lashes, his cock still between her lips and her cheeks hollowed with suction.

It was the sexiest thing Draco had ever seen.

Reluctantly, he inclined his head towards the bed, and Hermione pulled off his throbbing length with an arched brow.

"As much as I'm enjoying this," Draco said with a strained voice, "I don't think I can take much more."

Accepting the outstretched hand Draco offered her, Hermione smiled knowingly and stood on shaky legs, the stone floor indented into her knees.

"You weren't hurting, were you?" Draco asked upon seeing the marks.

"I was too busy to notice," she chuckled at the heated gaze he gave her, and he wrapped her in his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, then her cheek, and finally to her lips. They both sighed into the kiss, and when Draco pulled away, Hermione smiled again as she sat on the bed.

Draco settled next to her, pulling her again to his lips and cupping her face between his hands. His greedy mouth took possession of her tongue, their kiss turning rough with unspent desire.

Hermione pushed against his chest, and as she sat astride his lap, taking him fully inside her, all thoughts became inconsequential except one.

Draco knew he would never be able to feel this way with anyone else.


	13. Here comes trouble

**Chapter 13: Here comes trouble**

The following two weeks were some of the best Draco ever had at Hogwarts. He and Hermione celebrated New Years together with a large bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy and heavy amounts of snogging. Every day brought Draco some type of happiness, and he woke nearly every morning already looking forward to the day.

Today, however, was the day that all went to shit.

As he sat at the faculty table, breakfast long forgotten on his plate, the only thing he could do was glare daggers at the ginger-headed fucker standing next to the Headmistresses podium. McGonagall was currently introducing Weasley to the students—as if they didn't already know who he was. Draco swore he could see stars twinkling in the children's eyes while they stared at the abhorrent red hair.

At the very least, Weasley finally seemed to have upgraded his wardrobe, though Draco couldn't quite understand why he had chosen leather pants of all things. Ghastly fucker.

As McGonagall finished her speech, the Hall applauded Weasley as he waved at them, and Draco only continued his glare as the Professors clapped alongside them. Neville elbowed him gently, and Draco's glare rounded on him.

"Relax, Draco. Ron's changed a lot since school, Romania's been good for him."

Hearing Hermione's words echoed back to him from someone else only irritated him further, and after downing his tea, Draco stood. He caught the gaze of Weasley as he took his seat next to Hagrid and nearly hexed the redhead at the grin he gave Draco.

Draco could feel Hermione's honey eyes on him as he walked from the hall, but he didn't care. He would retreat to his Dungeons for the rest of the day and try his damned best to forget that a Weasley was in his school.

* * *

"Care of Magical Creatures was brill!"

"Did you see how Professor Weasley handled that baby Longhorn? He's so cool!"

"And cute!"

"Do you think he would sign my trading card of him?"

Draco tossed his quill on to his desk and sighed as he rubbed his eyes. It was only midday, and already he had listened to these incessant ramblings for the better part of an hour. The only thing his students talked about was fucking Weasley. If they didn't stop soon, he would force them all to work in silence or take House points.

As he sat back in his chair and watched his fifth year class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws work, he sighed again in irritation as the Hufflepuff currently drooling over Weasley nearly added one too many drops of wormwood.

"Miss Caprine," Draco called out. "It would do you well to pay attention to your Potion recipe and less to how Mr Weasley likes to take his tea."

Draco refused to call Weasley a Professor. He was here for term, and that was all; he never took his damned N.E.W.T.S, and he was entirely underqualified for such a title. Draco had _earned_ his place here, and of course, Weasley had it handed to him on a silver fucking platter.

The students broke out into giggles as Caprine turned eight shades of scarlet and buried her head into her Potions textbook. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the teenage girl and instead focused back on grading papers. He would need to think of something to get his students talking again, some way to bring their interest back to Potions and less about those stupid dragons and their annoying Keeper.

The Hufflepuff girls began to whisper again, and with resolve, Draco stood. The sound of his chair scraping on the cobblestone caused all heads to turn in his direction, all conversation ceasing as the students gave their undivided attention.

"I think," Draco began, attempting to piece together some sort of plan. "That we will move next week's lesson to today."

Flicking his wand, a small pot floated from the cupboard, a sealed lid placed tightly atop it. He gestured for the students to gather around his desk as the pot settled on it. Once they had joined him, Draco removed the lid slowly. Euphoric looks passed over each student in turn, and Draco felt his own calmness settle over him as waves of honeysuckle, broom polish, and cherry strudel filled his nose.

"Can anyone tell me what this is?"

A pause, then one of the Ravenclaw boys hand shot up, momentarily reminding Draco of the Advanced Potion class he once shared with Hermione.

He inclined his head to the Ravenclaw, who promptly answered.

"Amortentia, Sir."

The scent of vanilla settled over him as he awarded the boy five points—that was new. "And can anyone tell me what it does?"

The still-blushing Caprine answered this time, her voice small with shyness. "Isn't it a love potion, Professor?"

Draco nodded, "Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. But it does not create genuine love; on the contrary, it creates _obsession_ , rather than love. Can anyone else tell me what else Amortentia does?"

A Hufflepuff boy, Loughran, piped up, "You smell things!"

The class erupted into whispered giggles, and Draco smirked. "Yes, for all intents and purposes. You _smell_ things. Each person smells something different when in contact with Amortentia. There is, however, a third thing Amortentia does, and for the rest of class, you will be attempting to deduce exactly what that is. No one is to drink this potion, understood? Willoughby?"

Another set of giggles as Willoughby blushed and Draco handed each student a tiny vial of the potion.

"The first person to tell me the third use for Amortentia will win this." He held up a vial of silver liquid. "Felix Felcis, commonly known as liquid luck. You have one hour."

The students bustled back to their chairs, pulling out textbooks to read about the potion and speaking excitedly to their partners.

Draco smiled to himself as he returned to grading papers, his ears finally free of the name Weasley.

Forty minutes later, Draco's attention drew from his papers to a commotion at the back of the room. A quarrel had broken out between a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, Willoughby, of course—the troublemaker.

"What's going on here?"

Willoughby scrubbed at his face while the Ravenclaw, Daggle, pointed an accusatory finger. "He tried to drink the potion! Even after you explicitly told him not to, Sir. I was trying to pull it from his mouth, but it splashed on his face!"

Draco tried to hide his amusement; leave it to his students to discover the final use of Amortentia by _accident_.

"Willoughby, let me inspect you." Draco placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, and when the Hufflepuff dropped his arms, audible gaps erupted across the room.

The boy had become quite the looker. Where his nose had been bulbous and much too large before, it now curved into an elegant slope. The green of his eyes shone brightly, now perfectly symmetrical and framed by full lashes.

The girls began to whisper and giggle almost immediately.

Draco conjured a small hand mirror and handed it to Willoughby, who gaped as he took in his appearance.

"Mr Willoughby, would you care to tell me the third use for Amortentia?"

"Is it... to make someone more attractive?"

Draco smirked and took back the mirror, "When applied to the skin, Amortentia can act as a glamour of sorts. It makes the user's physical appearance perfect in every way. It isn't permanent, and when used for long periods can cause serious damage. But Mr Willoughby, I do believe you have won today's prize."

He handed the vial to Willoughby, another memory of Slughorn giving the same vial to Potter their sixth year. Oh, how Draco had envied him.

"Use it well."

Awe-stricken, Willoughby took the vial and Draco chuckled to himself as he dismissed his class. "Wednesday we will be brewing Invisibility Potion and testing it, so make sure you're prepared!"

Excited chatter left the room, Willoughby the centre of attention, and of course, the boy lapped it up like a starving dog. Draco shook his head in amusement; his students always entertained him.

He was just glad he finally figured out how to one-up Weasley.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a rushed blur of papers and potions, Draco preparing the seventh-years for their N.E.W.T.s. The fact that most of them would rather stare at each other than their textbooks and cauldrons caused his irritation to flare. He hadn't been this bad when he was a teenager, had he? Though, he supposed not much time was given to pining after girls.

The tables were already half-filled by the time he tore himself from grading essays to attend dinner. And of course, Weasley was already there, regaling Hagrid and Trelawney with whatever _stupid_ story spewed from his lips. How interesting could Romania be, anyway? Draco never heard of anything fun going on in Romania.

Wrinkling his nose as Weasley flung his fork about, Draco walked to his chair. He nodded in greeting to Neville, Susan, and Hermione. Hermione gave him a dazzling smile, but Draco couldn't find it in himself to return it. Not with Weasley nearby. Still, he tried to give her a half-smirk, which seemed to do the trick as she returned to her food.

It fell instantly. The overwhelming urge to hex the ginger's mouth shut coursed through him when that annoying laugh reached his ears as he sat. Instead of acting on that urge, he poured his annoyance into cutting his chicken, the cutlery scraping noisily against the plate.

Hermione gave him a concerned look, about to open her mouth to question him but was interrupted.

"Good evening, Draco." Professor Vector greeted as she took her seat next to Draco, blocking the space between him and Hermione.

Draco let out a relieved sigh. His patience was on a short leash already, and the last thing he wanted was to be questioned about it. Weasley and Hermione were close friends, and he knew she would side with Weasley should it come to it. Draco didn't want to be on the losing end of an ultimatum.

"Good evening, Vector."

They fell into silence, though Neville spoke to Susan on his left, and Hermione spoke to Sinistra on her right. It was almost comfortable, except for the conversation filling the air at the opposite end of the table. Even the damned students began to look at him, all doe-eyed and simpering.

"'Mione! Come down here a minute!" Weasley called, leaning back on the legs of his chair to glance down the platform. Draco saw Hermione roll her eyes but acquiesce, standing to walk down toward him and Hagrid.

Draco couldn't help the sharp glare he gave Weasley, who noticed and gave him one in return.

Hermione picked up on the looks between the two of them and reprimanded Weasley as she approached. "Honestly, Ronald. Draco's only glaring at you because you're so loud—"

"Oh, it's _Draco_ now, is it? Didn't realise you two were so chummy."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, her stilettos tapping with irritation on the floor. "Yes, _Draco_ and I are friends. _Not_ that it's any of your business."

Weasley shot another glare in his direction, " _Malfoy_ can be friendly all he wants, but he'll always be a ferret to me."

Draco ground his teeth, about to stand and argue until McGonagall cleared her throat. "If this is quite finished," she quipped, "perhaps you would like to continue that story about the Norwegian Ridgeback, Professor Weasley?"

And just like that, Weasley's attention drew back to story-telling, Hermione standing to his right, and laughing like she hadn't just told him off. Draco instantly knew where he stood. They were friends. Lovers, though that part remained a secret. But it would never compete with Weasley's friendship.

The chicken suddenly tasted like ash in his mouth.

"Mione, wanna go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend? I haven't had proper candy in ages." Weasley practically begged.

"Of course!"

Draco slammed his fork down on the table at Hermione's excited answer.

"Draco, are you alright?" Vector asked beside him.

Neville turned to him from his conversation with Susan, "Hey, you good, mate?"

Swiftly standing, Draco pulled his black robes tighter around him, "I don't particularly enjoy the taste of tonight's dinner. The chicken tastes like weasel." He took one glance at Hermione's concerned face and left, striding from the Hall.

It was only Weasley's first day here, and already Draco wanted him gone.

It was going to be a long term.

* * *

The weekend crept up on Draco without warning. He had avoided Hermione the entire time, afraid of the words that would pass between them. She'd tell him that this was fun while it lasted, but now that Weasley was here she wanted nothing to do with him. And he refused to let her say that to him. Best avoid it altogether.

It would be a lie, however, if Draco were to say he wasn't annoyed that she and Weasley would be going to Hogsmeade together. Not jealous, though. Malfoy's didn't get jealous.

Draco could tell the ginger tosser was up to something; all through breakfast, he kept reminding Hermione of going to Hogsmeade, even coming to pull her chair out for her when she was ready. Draco had nearly choked on the scent of leather and dragon dung that clung to his clothes.

So, that was why, an hour later, after trying and failing to grade papers, Draco went down to Hogsmeade as well. He needed another batch of chocolate wands anyway. At least, that's what he told himself.

The air was brisk as he walked down to the village, but he barely noticed. The only thing Draco paid attention to was searching for a familiar head of bushy hair. He spotted it through the window of The Three Broomsticks and decided perhaps a nice butterbeer was in order.

The place was packed with students and townsfolk alike; Saturdays were always a busy day for the pub. Rosmerta bustled behind the bar, and Draco waited patiently for her to take notice of him as he leant against the wood. Flitwick sat a few stools down, and Draco nodded in greeting to him.

He casually looked about the room with nonchalance, instantly spying Weasley and Hermione at a booth in the back. One he particularly remembered Ginny and Dean Thomas sharing on more than one occasion. That fucking git.

Draco didn't even bother to order a drink as he strode towards their table. Fuck, he didn't even know what he was going to say; he just knew he had to put some distance between the two of them.

_I'm not jealous._

He could hear the tail-end of their conversation as he walked closer, and it caused rage to boil his blood.

"—a proper date. I miss you, Mione."

"Ron, I can't just—"

"Hello." Draco interrupted, standing at the end of their table.

Hermione perked up instantly, both hands cupping her butterbeer. "Hello, Draco."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley spat out, taking a swig of firewhiskey and tossing his arm around the back of Hermione's seat.

Draco picked off a piece of invisible lint from his grey peacoat. "Just came to see if my _friend_ was alright. She looked quite uncomfortable. Perhaps it's the overwhelming stench of dragon dung in the air."

The rage Weasley gave off could practically be felt; Draco only smirked at his reaction and tucked his hands into his trousers.

"Get out of here, ferret. Hermione and I were having a _private_ conversation."

Hermione looked at Draco, and he could see her pleading with her eyes not to leave.

"How about I buy the next round?" Before Weasley could even protest, Draco turned back to the bar and called for Rosmerta, not even caring that the woman practically ran frantic with how busy it was. Grabbing the handles of the butterbeers, Draco walked back towards the table. They seemed quite animated this time, and he hid around the turn for a moment to listen to their conversation.

"I'm ready now, to settle down, I mean."

"That's lovely for you, Ronald. But I'm not the same witch anymore. I haven't just been waiting around for you—"

"Hermione, I'm ready. I mean it. I want to be with you again."

"I can't—I don't..." There was a pause, like she was trying to think of what to say. "I have a boyfriend."

A thrill went through Draco at the statement. He knew she was likely saying it just to throw him off her, but there was still a part of him—the part that wanted to claim her as his own—that celebrated the words. Boyfriend.

"You don't have to pretend to have a boyfriend just to—"

Draco came around the turn and clunked the glasses to the table, purposely sloshing butterbeer on Weasley. "Oops. Maybe it'll improve the stench. Seriously, do they not know how to wash clothes in Romania?"

Weasley stood with a roar and grabbed Draco's collar, picking him up with a strength few possessed. Draco would be a liar if he didn't say he was a bit scared, though he tried not to show it. They were nearly the same height, but Weasley was stronger, his time with dragons made sure of that.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shouted behind them, having stood from the table. "You put Draco down this instant."

Draco smirked at Weasley's anger-filled face only inches from his own. "Better listen to Granger, Weasley. Wouldn't want this getting back to your superiors that you fought a Hogwarts professor, would you?"

"I think, given who it is I'd be fighting, they'd forgive me." Weasley bit back, his grip tightening on Draco's coat. He hoped the house-elves would be able to get the dragon smell out of the fabric.

"Gentlemen," the ever-calm voice of Lupin piped up, "if you'd like to fight, I believe Madam Rosemerta would appreciate it outside."

"That I would!" Rosmerta shouted from behind the bar.

Draco looked around and noticed the entire pub had gone silent to watch their exchange.

"Well, Weasley? Fancy a fight outside or are you finished with the theatrics."

Weasley let go of his collar with a shove, and Draco stumbled into the table behind him. He shot the redhead a glare as he straightened his coat. "Gryffindors. Always so quick to anger."

Lupin and Hermione still looked at them both like a ticking Bombtastic Bomb waiting to go off at the drop of a hat. And he supposed, given the erratic breathing and wild eyes of Weasley, that could be true.

Draco opened his mouth for one last snide comment, but a sharp look from Hermione over Weasley's shoulder had him snapping his jaw shut. And there it was—Hermione's choice made. It would always be Weasley.

 _Fine_. Without a word, Draco turned and left the bar.

This time, as he walked back to the castle, the cold froze him to the bone, his hands shivering and teeth chattering. He didn't bother with a warming charm; he needed the cold. Needed to feel it in his veins; his heart. Maybe it would help him stop whatever the fuck it was he currently felt.

The journey to his room was mindless; he didn't even remember walking there. Draco sat on the edge of his bed and dropped his head to his hands instantly, the tips of his fingers cold as ice, and they ran through his hair.

"You stupid arsehole." He chastised himself. "You made her choose. Fucking idiot"

He silently berated himself for a few minutes until a knock on the door had him sitting up. It was probably Lupin, come to tell him off for what a giant idiot he was. As if Draco didn't already know that.

"What do you want, Lu—" Draco opened the door to find a flushed and angry Hermione glaring at him, breath heavy.

She pushed her way inside and tore off her coat, tossing it on the nearby chair. It was the first time she had been in his rooms, but she owned the space like she had been there a hundred times before.

"What the seven hells was that about?" she yelled, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at him. Her lips were pursed and cheeks reddened by the cold, chest still heaving. All Draco could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss her.

"What? Weasel started it." Draco mirrored her crossed arm, leaning against the now-closed door. "You looked like you needed saving—"

"I just wanted you to join us so he would stop talking about getting back together! I didn't want you to nearly start a fight! I haven't seen Ron be like that since—since school!"

Draco flinched at her shrill tone. Hermione was obviously _very_ upset. "Well, you made your stance abundantly clear to me. I know he's more important to you than I am, so if you want to get back together with him, by all means, I won't stand in your way."

"Are you—what?" Hermione blinked and dropped her arms, looking caught off guard. "You think I _want_ to get back together with him?"

Draco shrugged and became very interested in the thread of his shirt. "I don't hold you to anything. If you want out of... whatever we are to be with him, I'll understand."

"You're an idiot; you know that?"

Draco glanced up to find Hermione's eyes filled with tears, her knuckles white as they gripped her arms tightly. Probably to keep from crying.

"I love Ron; he's very dear to me."

Draco grimaced. Here was the big 'get lost' moment.

"But I'm not _in_ love with him."

Hermione walked forward and uncrossed her arms, tucking her cold hands into his and pulling his arms down. "I want _you_ , Draco. I've enjoyed the time we've spent together and... and I want more."

Something in Draco's chest squeezed and released at the same time. Like all the tension disappeared at one moment. He pulled Hermione forward and tucked her in his arms, pressing his face into her curls and breathing in her scent.

Vanilla and honeysuckle wrapped around him like a safe cocoon. "I'm sorry, I just... I just always thought you two would be together and then he came back, and I figured..."

"That's the problem with you," Hermione chuckled and wiped away her stray tears. "You assume too much without _asking_. If you would've just asked me, Draco, I'd have told this to you before Ron even got here."

Draco nodded and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"And, while we're on the subject," Hermione murmured, "you are as important to me as Harry and Ron, okay?"

Draco felt something else in his chest ease. He placed a gentle kiss to her temple and her cheek. "Okay."

Hermione grinned, "Good, now with that out of the way, why does your bed look bigger than mine?"

"Does it?" Draco smirked and kissed the side of her mouth, relieved at the change of subject. "Why don't we measure?"

The laugh that left her mouth as Draco led her to the bed made his head fuzzy. And when she straddled his lap and claimed his mouth, he could feel that she meant every word.

He'd try his best to believe it.


End file.
